#I was half tempted to use the name of the station I did my (very brief) DJ stint at.

[queen-scribbles]

Fine Print

Immediately post-Ruhnuk Kina/Rass ficlet bc I got a plot gizka. :D ---

The adrenaline didn't start to fade until their shuttle was lifting off from Ruhnuk in a flurry of dust plumes and downdrafts.

And even then her heart didn't slow much. This had been a close one no matter how much Kina thrived on adrenaline--and despite the fact they'd come out on top.

Kina set the autopilot to rendezvous with Shae's flagship and let out a deep breath as she sat back, glancing over at the copilot's chair. Jekiah and Akaavi were helping Shae in the back and she knew joining them would create a 'too many cooks in the cantina' situation. But Rass was sitting with one arm still curled protectively across his chest, over the burn marring his armor, jaw tight. That was something she could help.

"Hey," she began, bumping her knee against his to get his attention, "you alright? Anything broken?"

"Broken, don't think so." Rass shifted in his seat, jaw unclenching a little. He let go the shielding grip and ran his hand through his hair. "And I know what broken ribs feel like; that is distinctly absent. Aches like hell, but that's probably just bruises."

"Really?" Kina shot a skeptical look at the damage to his armor. "B'cause from where I was standin' it looked like Ri'kan had a hell of a backhand."

"Oh, he does," Rass said glibly. The half-smile he sent her looked forced around the edges. "Beskar's good stuff, Spike."

"Uh-huh." She gave him a flat look for the nickname. "Well, Tough Guy, maybe I should check anyway. Just to make sure you're not bleeding internally and gonna die a tragically young death soon as we land on the Spirit."

He laughed at that, though it was stilted and ended with a grimace. "That would be a shame."

"And since the med-techs are gonna bee busy with Shae" --and maybe Akaavi, she added to herself, remembering what he'd said about the relay station ambush-- "d'you really want them worryin' about you, too?"

Rass cocked his head, smirking faintly. "Better for you to worry about me?"

"I'm gonna do it anyway," Kina shrugged, "might as well benefit from it." Half-jokingly, she reached toward one of his armor clasps.

Something flickered in his eyes at her more-honest-than-intended comment, before amusement came back and he playfully batted her hand away. "Appreciated, but if you wanna get me out of my armor, you're gonna have to buy me dinner first."

"Not even if I say pretty please?" she teased with an exaggerated bat of her eyes. "Or remind you I did say I'd watch your back, and this counts. Y'know, in the fine print."

"Good to know, and more than a little tempting." Rass leaned his head back against the seat and watched the rapidly approaching flagship. "But I think I gotta stick to my guns on this one. Dinner. Or at least a drink."

"That's an awful fast compromise, Tough Guy," Kina grinned, still fiddling with the kolto injector she'd pulled out.

"Chalk it up to your persuasion skills." He glanced over, and there must've been something in her face that made him straighten. "Really, Kina, I'll be fine. Much like beskar, I'm sturdier than I look. And I'm pretty sure just bruises made it through."

"You'll hafta let me know if there're any pretty patterns to it," she joked. Something in her did an odd little flutter at him using her name, but she shook it off and waggled the kolto. "'Least want somethin' to help with the achiness?"

The good humor in his eyes faded to something serious. "Probably should. There's... a lot to talk to Jek about, once Mandalore's taken care of. Better to not be distracted by bruised ribs."

She almost protested, insisted on professional grounds rather than personal interest in 'getting him out of his armor', but just bit her tongue and handed over the kolto injector. "You know if you need anything you can hit me up." She smirked. "I am very good at acquiring things."

"This more of the fine print for havin' my back?" Rass teased. She didn't miss the wash of relief across his face when the kolto kicked in.

"Nah, I just like you," she grinned.

A flicker of a smile broke through the other emotions clearly taking over his thoughts. "Lucky me, then."

Kina winked at him, then turned her attention to the controls, witching back to manual for the final approach to the Spirit of Vengeance II. Her heart rate was climbing again, despite her attempts to settle it.

Just for a completely different reason now.

#queens fic #kina taldine #rass ordo #kina/rass #swtor #swtor smuggler #they get posted before the lotro fic bc they GAVE ME A TITLE

[aydann-runs]

“Hey Mike,” Dallas says, following him inside when he goes to get another beer. “I found this stuck in the back of a drawer in the Airstream. It seemed like something you’d want to decide what to do with.”

Michael takes the crumpled envelope Dallas is holding out. Alex's name is scrawled across the front, and he recognizes it immediately. It's not like he’s written many letters in his life.

“You read it?” Michael asks aggressively. Before Dallas has a chance to respond, Michael grimaces and holds up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Sorry. I know you didn't read the letter. Stuff from that time in my life makes me defensive, and when it involves Alex…”

“Yeah man, I get it. It's okay,” Dallas says. He claps Michael on the back. “I'm gonna head back outside, but come on out when you're ready.”

Michael nods and sinks down onto Max's couch. Carefully, he lays the envelope on his thigh and smoothes it out the best he can. He remembers writing this letter, agonizing for weeks over whether or not to send it. He remembers getting drunk one night and stumbling to the nearest blue USPS box and pushing the letter through the slot.

He remembers sobering up a bit a few hours later and running back to the mailbox, using his telekinesis to pull the letter back out.

Michael remembers shoving the letter away, out of sight, as soon as he'd gotten back to the trailer. He'd done his very best not to think about it over the next half a dozen years, and then Alex had come home, had become his home, and he'd forgotten about the letter entirely.

Michael swallows hard and runs a hand through his curls. He's tempted to just toss it in the fire pit, to let it burn to ashes. He still remembers what he'd written to Alex, even if it's been close to ten years since he'd sealed the envelope, but it feels wrong, disrespectful to who he'd been, to destroy the letter without rereading it first. So, after a final glance around to ensure his continued privacy, he pulls open the flap to the envelope and slides the single piece of paper out.

Alex,

You left again the other day. Headed somewhere in Texas, I think, from something you let slip. You're always so careful to avoid telling me where you're stationed. Are you afraid that if I know, I'll show up uninvited and ruin your perfect little charade of a life? That if I know how to find you, I actually will? Would that really be so bad? I know how to keep a secret. I could be your secret.

But don't worry, because I don't actually know how to find you. I have to send this letter to your squadron home base, and they'll send it on to you, wherever you actually are.

I know I just said I could be your secret, but that's a lie. And I know that’s how it has to be right now, but I'm so tired of being someone you're ashamed of. Do you know how much it fucking hurts every time you leave? I love you, and I want you to love me back. And maybe you do, and you're doing the best you can right now, but it fucking HURTS. It's not enough. I can't be the person you come to only on your terms.

I'm living this double life, this semi-charmed life. You come around for a few hours or a few days, and the rest of the world fades away. And it's so good! While we're together, I can almost believe that you love me too, that this will be the time that you don't put up your walls and leave. That you don't remind me that I can't talk to anybody about you, about us, as you're heading out the door. As if I could ever forget. That's Rule #1. Keep this a secret.

And then you always leave, and it doesn't matter how good things were while you were here, because when you leave, it destroys me every time. It must not hurt you, the leaving, like it hurts me being left behind, because if it did, you wouldn't be able to keep doing it. There's no way you could feel like I do right now, like your heart was ripped from your chest, and walk away.

I'll get through it this time like I have all the other times, but Alex, you've gotta stop. I love you, but I can't keep letting you do this to me. If you can't stay, then next time, don't come at all.

He hadn't signed the letter, hadn't wanted to give the Air Force anything that could be used to hurt Alex.

Reading those words, scrawled in his own hand, brings back an echo of how he'd felt at the time, and he rubs at his chest, soothing the remembered ache. But that is all it is–a memory. He and Alex have talked through everything that had happened during those years and have done the work to soothe old hurts and build a solid foundation to move forward.

So Michael gives himself a minute or two more to ground himself in the here-and-now before he pushes up from the couch to rejoin Alex and his family outside. He crumples the letter in its envelope and tosses it into the fire as he steps into Alex's space. He leans against the solid weight of his husband and watches the letter burn to ashes.

#30 day writing challenge #day 18 #use the title of the last song you listened to #roswell new mexico #malex fic #my fic #3EB Semi-Charmed Life

[lyon-amore]

The half of me Chapter 28

Chapter 27 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I keep looking at Daliah's text, trying to remember something she once said as a child. She almost had a hard time telling what happened, she only she could tell that he was a man. Just like me when I pointed at him. I read the part about the horse again. Did they show her an animal to calm her down? Was that the Krebs trick? Use his child so the children won't be afraid? I get a terrible chill just thinking about it.

  "MC" I react immediately when I heard Jake call me ", when I investigated Krebs, they did not mention that he had horses" I nod attentively ", and that she very possibly didn't get to see them because she was passed out when they found him with her."   "But Daliah was afraid of them, so she must have seen one somewhere" she replied as I thought ". It can't be that there wasn't one, they're huge not to see it."   "And Krebs's child shoved it to her" I read to remember. It's true. That horse was even his mother's ". It marked her that moment as you say."   "And mix what happened in Colville with the time when she was a child" I hug myself, remembering my night ", she must have seen something that made her remember..."   "And what made her afraid to go to Colville." He sighs thoughtfully.    I'm relieved to know that the mystery in all this bothers him as much as it does me. Daliah was not very specific when writing it, but I know that she went through the same thing that I went through, only she says that they observed her. It was even much worse... I look at my watch and realize that if I don't hurry, maybe Lang's shift will end, and I won't be able to file a report.   "Jake, before I go to the station, I'll tell you the name of Grace and Ralph's mother" I say as I get out of bed to put on my sneakers ", her name is Irma Roth, maybe you can find out about her? She looked at me strangely and-"

  "Irma Roth, I got it" I hear him typing quickly ". Connect later, I probably already gotten something."   "Okay," I pick up my phone and head to the entrance. We talk later.   "Good luck lo-"   "Jake..."   "You do not like me telling you over the phone, I know" he replies with a laugh. For me, hearing those words I like more in person, it makes it more real. At least only until we stop being able to see each other in person ". If you get nervous, connect the call command in the chat, alright?"   "Don’t worry, I'll be fine" I smile, feeling better for his advice. Always so attentive ". Let's talk later."   “We will talk later, love.” he says quickly.   "Ja-" I don't have time to answer him that he's hanging up.    I look at the screen and laugh. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nym-0s Too tempting to stop calling you that. ;) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I put the phone to my chest, feeling happy. I can't get mad at nice words even if I'm embarrassed to hear or read them on the phone. But as I've thought before, it's much better when I can see his expression when he calls me that. When I get to the police station, they tell me to wait for Lang. Which makes me more nervous. I tug at my sleeve, remembering what happened last night. I must tell him. I can't let someone like Ralph loose on the street.   "Miss Gardner" I look up at hearing my last name, meeting Lang's gaze ", is there anything I can do for you?"    I take a breath and get up slowly. I'm nervous now, maybe I should use the command.   "I was here to report an assault" I reply quickly, trying not to rely so much on Jake's presence ", someone drugged me last night."    I see his expression change, to a concerned one. He gestures for me to follow him and I follow to his table. He gets ready on the computer and looks at me seriously.   "Tell me, have you gone to the hospital to be examined?"   "No, I-"   "I'm sorry, but we also need a medical test-"   "Can you please listen to me?" I tell him in a serious tone "This is important."    He takes a breath and sits down.   "I'll take your statement and we'll take some evidence from the scientific unit to analyze any traces in your body" I see that he writes and continues asking me "Do you remember who you were with?" I'm relieved that I'm dealing with him, it's much easier for me.    "I was with Grace Roth and Ralph Hesse" it still surprises me that they both have different last names being brothers. Ralph's motives are still pretty foreign to me ". I went dancing with Grace on the floor and when I went to drink, Ralph brought me a drink."   "Where did it happen?"   “In Colville, at Grace's mother's local” I try to remember the name, but it's hard, I was so mesmerized by the amount of people that I forgot to look at it. I pull out my phone, looking up clubs in Colville. I manage to find it when I see the name of the owner. The feeling of fear at the memory of Ralph's cold eyes after the kiss comes to mind ". It's called 'The Red Palace'..."    He nods as he writes. I want to get this over with soon.

After letting them take my blood, a urine sample and some hair, I finally manage to leave the room, waiting for them to tell me if the drug is still in my body. When I get to the entrance, I see some policemen escorting Ralph, who remains calm, as if nothing is wrong. After looking away from him, I get a surprise slap. It has given it to me so hard that it has turned my head to the side. How dare you falsely accuse him?!" Grace yells at me, furious "I thought we were friends! Why are you doing this to me?!"   "I did what I had to do" I reply, holding my ground, although I put a hand to my face, hurt ". Grace, your brother is dangerous!"   "I'm thinking of telling my version of what happened last night" she tells me, fuming ". I'll tell them that you're really a slut who goes around lying so they don't know you're making out with just anyone."   "That's not true" I feel like I can't control my anger, I would also slap her if it wasn't because I don't want them to think badly of me.   “We both know you weren't with us all night MC” she says with a cold voice ". You're accusing the wrong guy when you told me yourself that you went to see a friend” I sigh, remembering the messages I sent her ". If you regretted what you did last night, it's not our fault" I look at her confused, what is she insinuating? ". So stop lying."    She leaves screaming for her brother, wanting to go with him. I start to gasp for breath. Everything starts to blur. Exactly, there is no proof that Ralph could drug me and that they can say that I left because I felt bad and that's it. There is no proof that he could do it. I give an angry shout leaving the police station, I have only made it worse to look bad and they will want to look for "that mysterious friend". This gets worse with every step I take; it can't be that all the good I try to do for wanting to know what happened to Daliah, more reasons appear to declare me the crazy person of the town.   "Calm down, MC" I say to myself, raising a hand to my head ". You're going to get it… You can…” I wonder if I'm lying or telling the truth.    I calm down a bit and go to my car, which, when I see it, I find that it has flat tires. I let out a tired laugh. Perfect, it must have been Grace angry when she saw it. I lean against the car and, after a call for a tow truck, I decide to text Jane, hoping she isn't busy. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MC Jane, do you have a moment?

-----Jane has connected-----

Jane What's happening? Is it because of the police?

MC Police?

Jane They've come in looking for Ralph And since you talk to him...

MC No, it's for something else I need you to come looking for me Grace has flattened my car wheels…

Jane WHAT?!

MC I have denounced her brother to the police and it has not gone down well...

Jane WOW! WHAT?! This is interesting

MC Jane! It's not interesting at all! The situation is horrible!

Jane I know, sorry It's that she thought it was because Ralph is the culprit of Daliah's murder, but it seems to be something else more serious

MC Can you come looking for me? I need to be home quickly

Jane Ok, I'm coming Total, everything is a bit altered around here

MC Thank you

Jane You’re welcome But you're going to have to tell me what's going on 😐

MC Yes, I will do it… I'm in the parking lot near the police station

Jane Okay

-----Jane has disconnected----- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I go to the Nymos chat and decide to tell Jake that I have reported what happened. When I read his message, I get nervous. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nym-0s And how has it been? You are well? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If I answer here, I might end up crying uncontrollably. I rub my cheek remembering the slap. She has hit me too hard. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MC I'll tell you when I'm home Is… Difficult to tell

Nym-0s But are you alright or not? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He keeps insisting and I get worse than before. I see that he is capable of coming if he knows that I have been hit and I want him to be safe. She haven't been beaten me up either, but knowing that he could have risked losing his life in a mine, who knows what he would do if he knows about the slap. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MC Yes, but wait a bit I promise I'll tell you

Nym-0s Fine. So I continue with the computer.

MC Jake?

Nym-0s Yes, MC?

MC I don't know how I'm going to thank you for everything you've done for me today You made me a promise, but I want to make mine...

Nym-0s :) What promise do you want to make me?

MC No more manipulations I won't let them eat my head anymore

Nym-0s I already imagined that.

MC Everything that is happening is very difficult for me And you are the only one who has always been there through the good times and the bad and, unfortunately, I have separated you in many of those situations... But all those times I have appreciated, even the ones that are happening now I won't let them say anything bad about you again, Jake

Nym-0s I really appreciate it MC. Although those words were not needed, but I can understand what you felt. I think you are doing well to start changing. :)

MC Don't think it sounds like some kind of farewell or something!

Nym-0s Why do you say that?

MC Because the nice messages are always goodbye and I don't want it to seem like it

Nym-0s Haha, do not worry, it does not seem like it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The tow truck arrives and so does Jane. It's time to say goodbye for now. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MC I have to leave you for a moment Let's talk later

Nym-0s Alright. I will be waiting for you :)

MC 😊

-----Nym-0s has disconnected----- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jane walks over and looks at the car as the tow truck man attaches the hook to load it.   "Okay, this is too much even for Grace" she says surprised ", but what happened?"    I write my data on the sheet they have given me to fill out. This is being the worst day of all, only the conversations with Jake are saved.   "I'll tell you in the car." I hand the folder to the man and say goodbye, starting to walk towards Jane's car.    I get in the car and put on my seatbelt. Jane too, but she looks at me impatiently.   "Tell me already!" she exclaims.    I take a breath and answer calmly.   "Last night Ralph drugged me" I see that she makes a scared face "and we kissed."   "Are we talking about the same Ralph? Ralph Hesse?" She asks me raising an eyebrow "the calmest guy I know in this whole town?"    I look at her with a bad face. It can't be that she doesn't believe me either. I snort, sinking into the car seat. Another person who doesn't believe me.   "I'm not saying that I don't believe you or something like that" she tells me with a sympathetic look ", it's just… It doesn't fit the image of him, he's a good guy."   " ‘He was a good boy, we don’t understand how he could do it’. " I comment with the typical phrase that is always said. Is incredible. All my life repressing my contained rage and now comes out with the worst situation that someone can have.    I didn't mean to sound like that" The pain shows in her voice. She starts to start the car and sighs ". I guess that's why Grace did that to your car."   "Looks like our ''beautiful friendship'' is over." I say with a hint of sarcasm.   “Being friends with Grace wasn't the best either, you know?" I look at her confused "She and Daliah were the same, she may show herself as 'good Grace' with you, but believe me, they were on the same level or worse" she gives me a quick look ". If I'm nice to her, it's because she's never attacked me like Daliah did. She at least had no reason to go against me."    I keep thinking about her words. Neither Carter nor Jane like Grace. On the other hand, I liked her until today when I got into the issue of her brother stalking. Why not believe that? She was there, she could have done something. But Ralph said I made it up…did I really imagine it? Even so, I have that feeling on my lips still. And I hate it.   "And what happened after they drugged you?" She asks me worried "Did he…"   "No, I'm fine" she answered awkwardly ". In part I am, but luckily, I told my boyfriend to come and get me."   "Stop, do you have a boyfriend?!" She screams so much that I cover my ears from the surprise of the tone "How come you haven't told me until now?! That is not hidden from a friend!"   "Do you remember the hacker I told you about?"   "Oh… Yeah!" I see how her eyes shine. It seems that the fear about the hacker persecuted by the government has disappeared in her "It's like a book with a plot of forbidden love!" A laugh escapes me when I see her excited. I didn't expect this from her "It can't be that I missed all this story! And I thought it was something much worse!"  "Well, it's a long story" I answer, feeling much better. I appreciate having people by my side who ease my worries a little.   "I have all the time in the world for this story."    I take a deep breath, trying to think of how to start the story. At least I'll skip the ending of the real kidnapper. She don't need to know.

All the way back to my house, I tell the whole story to Jane. How Thomas's message reached me, Jake's request, the investigations, how I fell more and more in love with him and Daliah told me not to trust. By the time I got to that part, she nearly broke a cushion because of her anger.   “Seriously, what was Daliah thinking?" She asks me furiously, reaching the end of the story and after telling her that she was the one who warned Elliot "She had no right to interfere in your love life like that!"   "I still want to know why she really did it" I answered a little sadly ". Jake never really put me in danger, he even risked going to that mine for me."   "And how many people would do that for the person they love?" She asks, raising her hands, in an exaggerated way "Well, my Carter, obviously" she smiles like a lover. She loves him too much, I can't tell her. He has to do it ". But it's still the most romantic story ever! It's almost like-…. Destiny!"    I blush as I nodded, hugging a cushion. I guess she can call it that. Everything happens for a reason in the end, right?   "And have you seen him yet?" I see her pick up another cushion and hug it. We look like two teenagers talking about the cute boy from high school "Have you met in person?"    And here comes the hard part. Tell her or not? Seo-ah already knows him and I don't know if it's good to include Jane in all this now. It would be endangering another person with information.   “Let's just say” I start to say, trying to think not to elaborate “something happened and we saw each other, but it was just to help me, then he disappeared."    She tilts her head with a mischievous smile. Can she tell I'm lying? Does it show so much on my face?   "I understand, you want to protect him" I nod at her words ". Please, if you have a daughter call her Jane, I'm your number one fan now."   "What are you saying?!" I notice my cheeks burning while I hit her with the cushion in the face "It's still too soon for the issue of children!"    Jane laughs and gives me with the another cushion. My fear being in Rosenschwarz disappears and I think it was worth telling her in the end. Thanks to this research I am gaining new friends, it is like the Duskwood group, they are not perfect, but in the end, they fit together in a certain way. Because seeing Carter and Mason talk like all their hate towards each other didn't exist was an amazing thing to see. Too bad it had to happen to Seo-ah's attack for them to realize they can get along. I get a notification and smile. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nym-0s I found information on Irma Roth. Is not much but is something. In case you want to know more about her. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  "It's him, right?" Jane asks me, leaning on my shoulder to look at her phone.   “Yeah” I answer as I answer Jake “He was curious about Grace and Ralph's mom because of what happened last night."   “Right, she runs the club.” she replies and then she looks at me “Are you going to call him?    I bite my lip, wondering, is it a good idea for me to do it?   "I don't know if-"   "Please! I want to hear him!"    Her pleading look is like that of a little girl. I sigh, nodding, putting the call command.   “Hello love.” Jake says as soon as I answer and I blush. Jane lets out a squeal of excitement and I look at her, signaling for her to shut up "MC? You are not alone?"   "Uh, no…" I reply shyly.   "I'm Jane Maier. Nice to meet you, Jake! I'm a fan of your romance!" As she's talking, I signal for her to keep quiet. I'm embarrassed to say it.    Jake stays quiet, and I see him text me. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nym-0s Have you told her everything?

MC I'm sorry 😞 But since she is my only friend that I have left here…

Nym-0s I see. You must trust her too much to tell her who I am.

MC You're angry?

Nym-0s I am not angry, more like a little overwhelmed. I am not used to people being a fan of me.

MC At least she liked how our romance was

Nym-0s :) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  "Have I upset him?" Jane asks me.   "Let's say that's what I told you, he doesn't usually trust people he doesn't know very much."   "Oh, I understand " she nods and walks over to the phone ". I'm so sorry, Jake, I'll try not to be too overwhelming with my talk, I promise."    Well, at least she's being nice to Jake and understanding the situation. We wait a bit for Jake to speak again. I'm sure he tries to psych himself up before doing it. He is another new person in his life.   "Nice to meet a friend of MC's, Jane" he replies politely ". Although I understand that you were the culprit she cut off her hand."   "You're right, he's a little scary when he's angry" Jane whispers. I laugh and she continues ". It was a mistake on my part, actually, I didn't even want to go shout at her."   "Of course you did not." Jake's voice sounds cold, it's better to change the subject before he wants to hack Jane's phone.   "What… what did you find on Irma Roth?" I ask, hoping he would calm down a bit.   "There is a transcript of an interview a show did to them a few years ago" I hear him start typing and he texts it to me. We began to read it ", Armando Serrano took her off the streets when she was very young, offered her a job, they fell in love and in the end they got married. That is the summary of the interview."    I read the interview carefully. Irma was eighteen years old when she met Serrano, and she married him when she turned twenty-six, which would make her now about forty-four years old since her wedding. I try to do calculations. Something doesn't fit...   "And what does this have to do with Daliah?" Jane asks.   "Daliah started working with Serrano when she was young" I reply, remember ". Possibly at the same age as Irma met Serrano."   "Which we can now add the theory of the jealous wife" says Jake ", if she was threatened by her and that she could take away her entire life of luxury, she would possibly do whatever it took to get her away from Serrano and now" another piece of news happens to me from the gossip ", we come to marital problems."   " 'The Serrano and Roth marriage is in danger: Future divorce?’ " Jane reads aloud.   “The news is from seven months ago” I read the date and think about what we've discovered so far “the same time Daliah stopped wanting to go to Colville…"   "There is something that has caught my attention" we listen carefully to Jake "and that is that there is no news of the birth of his children. Why?"   "I guess they didn't want the press to take pictures of their minor children" says Jane ", it's common to pay for not taking pictures of them."   "No, it doesn't fit" I shake my head ", the ages of Grace and Ralph along with her mother's would imply that she must have had them long before she married Serrano."   "A marriage to avoid a scandal over some illegitimate babies?" Jane is having a great time with all this investigating, I can see it in her eyes.   "Could be" Jake replies ". It's quite common to want to cover up a scandal because there would be too many questions and they decided to get married at an age where it would not seem suspicious to marry someone younger than him” I nod, although not very sure. I have a strange feeling. A feeling that terrifies me. I had never experienced this ". In any case, Irma Roth is another suspect, after reading Ralph and Daliah's chat, there could be something between her and Serrano."    I was going to say that Daliah wouldn't be able to do that, but I remembered that she might be able to after sleeping with Carter. I massage my temples, starting to get a headache with all the information gained.   "Are you alright?" Jane asks me, concerned.   "What is wrong with MC?" Jake asks nervously. If Jane weren't there, he probably wouldn't have known.   "It's nothing" I reply heavily ". Hey Jane, do you mind if you please go?" I try to be as smooth as possible so she doesn't get mad ". I need to talk to Jake alone."   "No problem." Jane smiles, getting up from the sofa "You know? I will help you with this new information."   "It is not necessary" Jake answers quickly, while I pick up my phone to follow her "MC and I get by just fine."   "Nonsense, Jake" Jane waves a hand, nonchalant ". I'm the mayor's daughter, I can get any permit if I want” I raise an eyebrow and hear Jake sigh ". Well, okay, those things are bribed, but leave that to me!" She throws kisses with her hand into the air towards the phone as a farewell and then moves her fingers to me as a farewell "I'll tell you if I can find something interesting!"    She leaves and leaves us alone.

Jake sighs again and I laugh. It has been a very strange time.   “Well” he finally says, with a hint of concern “, tell me what is going on."   "This means that the theory of the child of Krebs being the murderer is possibly completely destroyed" I comment, going to my room to lie down on the bed "and that it could all be a setup, that we're in an infidelity case and…" I take air, trying to calm down "That perhaps Irma also knew about the existence of Evergreed's MC and also felt threatened by someone who looked like Daliah, that's why she looked at me..."   "In a strange way?"   "Yeah, like she didn't expect me there."   "Well, it is a good theory for now" as I would like him to be here to hug me after all this new information, it would be much easier to be calm ", jealousy is somewhat unpredictable when faced with the actions of people."   "Are you speaking from experience?" I ask doubtfully.   "Are you joking?"   "No" I answer innocently ", I just already know how you are on that subject."    I hear how he clears his throat, has he been nervous?   "I would never kill out of jealousy, if that is what you mean" he answers annoyed, or so it seems.   "Oh no, I would never think that" I answer nervously “. I was just saying that-"   "Well, in my case, it is not because I am jealous that they are with you" the volume of his voice lowers as he speaks ". We are going to leave it there."    I wonder what he's referring to... If it's not because they're by my side, why is it? I think he don't need to be jealous. I hug the pillow somewhat nervous. My heart beats fast thinking about what his reason could be.   "Can you tell me what happened at the police station?" He asks me changing the subject.    I sigh and set the pillow aside, trying to relax.   "The police have gone to the academy looking for Ralph while they were taking evidence of the existence of drugs in my body" I reply, clenching my hands tightly ". But Grace is going to speak against me, saying that I made it up, she has flattened me to the tires of the car."    Jake doesn't say anything, he stays silent. I look worriedly at my phone. Is he very angry? I wait a little longer, wanting him to say something, to say a word to me.   "Jake?"   "Sorry, I am trying to calm down" Jake's voice sounds hard, it's as if he's controlling his anger at the moment "Are you okay?"   "Yes" I answer as I rub my cheek, remembering the slap ", although who knows what's going to happen now, I don't have any evidence against Ralph and he can lie with the excuse that he could have left the table alone for a moment to go see someone, his mother."   "Unfortunately this is not something I can help with" He sounds annoyed, I can tell. He does not have the ability to prove that it was really Ralph because it is something that is not investigated by hacking. We can’t do nothing ". But I will be supporting you in whatever you need."   "That's more than enough for me" I smile fondly ". But I've made an enemy now..."   "Let us hope all she does is flat your tires." Yeah, he's pretty mad at her.    I also try to relax. A lot has been happening lately and we are getting closer to the truth, the list has been getting smaller and smaller until Carter, Mason and Ralph are left, but the latest events with Ralph, maybe he made the situation worse and was able to give the real killer a chance to get away with it. And then there's Seo-ah… If she just woke up and talked… Would Mason have been able to hurt her just for she didn't say anything? Like how Richy hurt Jessy to continue torturing her towards the group and me? If Mason really was able to do it... Who am I going to believe then? How many people do I have left to trust?  <<Jake and your friends from Duskwood.>> I squeez my eyes shut, looking tired. I do nothing but sleep and investigate, that's all I've done since all this started. It is as if part of my energy has vanished.   "I wish you were here..." I whisper, beginning to fall asleep "It would be so much better if I had you by my side now..."    Little by little, I relax, drifting off to sleep. I wish that after this, everything would go back to the way it was before, but with the difference that Jake is already a part of my life.

*Jake POV*

  "I want it too, love..." I answer knowing that she has fallen asleep.    I can hear her breathing. She is relaxed, much calmer than she was tonight, which seemed to cost her because of the effects of the drug, nervous and uncontrolled. I continue to work on the security around me, while the other computer works as usual on Daliah's. It is a second that I hear MC complaining in her sleep, but I act quickly by picking up my phone to talk.   “Do not worry, I am still here” I say with a calm voice “. Do not worry, I am still on the cell phone.”    MC stops complaining and breathes calmly and deeply again. I do not think she heard me, but I will think she did, at least to keep me calm.

I continue on the cell phone, still worried about her. She sometimes has moments when she complains again, but she calms down right away. Could it be the effects of the drug? Will they still be in her body? I am not comfortable knowing it and in the worst case, it is that she may feel that she needs it again because she said she felt good. I wonder what kind of drug it would be. I get notified of a message from Mike. At least it is good news. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mike I bring fresh news like lettuce! 🥬

Jake What?

Mike You don't like that phrase? 🤔  Ok, then this: I bring news that is the bomb! 💣 

Jake Stop comparing and tell me. I am not in the mood for jokes.

Mike What happened? MC is ok?

Jake MC got drugged last night. I spent the whole night taking care of her. I am controlling myself not to rage at the guy who did this to her. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I wait for Mike to be surprised, but he stays quiet. I arch an eyebrow curiously, is not he going to say anything? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jake Mike?

Mike Sorry, I just got mad Seo-ah, MC… I join you in beating up whoever did all this to you. I don't like that these things happen to good people, you know?

Jake Thanks for your concern, Mike. I appreciate it.

Mike If they mess with my colleague's girlfriend, I mess with it too 🥊 🥊 

Jake :) Well, what news is that?

Mike I’ll start telling you, my friend I haven’t eaten or slept, I haven’t done anything other than trying to modify an antivirus for Mydoom that I made, taking the data from it Then I have added a protection software against the first Mydoom, modifying it a bit to work against the new one So I haven't slept at all all night and I haven't had breakfast eieither

Jake Are you alright?

Mike Yes, I'll get over it! 😁  BUT I HAVE THE COMPLETE PROGRAM!

Jake Are you telling me that a program that you could have done since I commissioned you could have finished it already?

Mike You two wouldn't let me and I had to talk to both of you, don't push me so much now! BUT THE CASE! IT IS THAT I HAVE NOT LEFT IT AS SOON AS YOU GONE! I had to do it as fast as possible!

Jake Thank you, Mike.

Mike And you still can’t pay me for this 😒 But now it’s my fault because I told you there was nothing wrong with money, I can’t complain anymore

Jake Exactly.

Mike Ok, let me enter your computer and I'll install it for you

Jake No. I better go into yours and get it.

Mike Suspicious… Well, wait a minute and…. Done, my computer is your computer Just don’t do anything other than grab the antivirus folder, please. 🙏

Jake It is the only thing I need. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I quickly access his computer and see that he is quite ordinary, I expected much worse coming from him, but he does not seem to have anything to distract himself with. He have left the antivirus folder on his desktop. I get it and transfer it to the computer that works on unlocking Daliah's files, and then transfer it back to his computer. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jake Anything I should know before installing it?

Mike Yes, don't wet it or feed it after midnight

Jake Michael…

Mike There is nothing special Just let it work and it will cleanse for you

Jake Good. I need Rocco to come pick up the computer to take it to MC.

Mike I’ll let you know right away And another thing The contact I have to access the adoption files has already been set up It is one of the best that exists, I have left almost half of my money

Jake Perfect, this news is going to make MC very happy.

Mike I hope so… Hmm… what else? The FBI haven't gotten the hell out of Rosenschwarz, but Rocco's hooked up with one of those guys and he's telling me they're still turning some hostels upside down

Jake I did well to get out fast.

Mike I think that’s all Good luck Jakie

-----Mike has disconnected----- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I smile looking at the screen, seeing how little by little the files begin to be seen. They are all placed by date, being the oldest from two thousand and thirteen.   "Very soon you will have this computer, MC" I tell her even though I know she has stopped hearing me ", hold on a bit, very soon you will be able to have it in your hands and we will be able to find out the truth."

Chapter 29

[kyndaris]

He Only Had Himself to Blame

The number 8 is meant to be fortuitous in the realm of Chinese superstition. Unfortunately, suitor number 8 was anything but. And given that this was my first date after returning from a trip overseas, I had been secretly hoping for some excitement and adventure. Alas, the only excitement I ever got on the date was the sudden downpour that met me as I clambered out of the car and rushed to the station, which was then followed by a fast-flowing river of water that I had wade past to arrive at our meeting spot. Suffice it to say, by the time I arrived, my shoes and socks were completely soaked. A distraction that would prove to take up much of my thoughts as you, dear readers, will see.

But while the above paragraph paints a date of disastrous proportions from the very beginning, it was still very much an exaggeration of the events. I mean, yes, I did have squelchy shoes and wet socks but it wasn’t the worst situation I’ve been in.

I met number 8, who I shall henceforth name Mr Cellophane to keep up with the Chicago theme (but also because I found him rather bland), just outside a dessert cake store at Darling Square. While he was polite, even messaging me beforehand if he could shout me a coffee (which, I’ll have you know, I turned down because you never know how others might interpret an act of kindness), I couldn’t help but judge his outward appearance. True, he wasn’t as badly dressed as some of the others I’ve met but what is with men and the fact that they think they can get away with an unbuttoned collar shirt and baggy pants that need a good ironing?

That aside, Mr Cellophane had chosen a table outside where any errant wind could have us soon soaked to the skin! After arriving at the store and turning the corner, I spotted him seated at a small table. As well as an empty table inside through the glass. Given the downpour I had just endured, I suggested that we sit inside rather than risk getting wet if the wind decided to change direction. 

There are days when the rain falls almost laterally! And a roof over one’s head does nothing if there are no walls to also deflect those pellets of water!

Mr Cellophane was amenable enough to the change and we found ourselves safely ensconced inside the cafe within seconds. 

As he had never visited the store before, he was the first to choose a cake. When he had returned to the table, he was sporting a small slice of red velvet and cherry cake. Then it was my turn to pick and choose a delightful treat to accompany some relaxing small talk. I chose a light sponge cake with strawberry and pistachios.

Once I had paid for it and my hot chocolate, I joined Mr Cellophane back at the table we had claimed. Throughout it all, I learned he had a sister and mother. His father, while alive, was out of the family picture. The reason he gave was a little vague but it was clear that his father had done a bad thing.

And then we moved on to work, games and a few of his hobbies. He did occasionally ask me a few questions but it was Mr Cellophane that mostly dominated the conversation. Probably, he wanted to fill in any awkward silences. He was very nervous throughout the whole affair if the visible shaking was any indication. But because of that, I felt like I could never really get a word in edgewise. He would just steamroll through everything, from the fact that he LARPs with BattleCry (yes, I’ve hard about it. At one point, I was even tempted to join) to the fact that he went hiking with a few friends).

Did I ever raise the fact that I went travelling recently? Nope. Why? Well, he never asked and I never did get the opportunity to do so. He was just so busy talking about his life - which, can be my fault. I do encourage them to keep talking - that I merely sat there eating my cake and finishing off my drink before he even got half-way through his own.

Yet despite the fact that he was in his own world, nattering on about the things that he liked and his current situation, I couldn’t help but find him utterly dull. His was a life that was almost like any other. There wasn’t anything special to write home about. Just another face in a sea of thousands.

Not a great place to be in.

So, when we finally vacated our spots, mostly to let a group of three sit down and actually enjoy the kurtosh they had ordered, we meandered towards the train station. Of course, he told me that it was a lovely date and he thought we had a connection and that I was wonderful and beautiful.

Why do men fixate on appearance? Please tell me more about my stunning personality and/ or whatever else you might have found engaging. Oh, that’s right, you didn’t get to hear me nerd out about my writing or whatever else because you simply dominated the conversation and allowed me the occasional one-liner zingers that got you chortling!

If I sound somewhat irked, it’s because I’m starting to wonder if I should be dating men at all. 

To be perfectly honest, I think a part of me would prefer to date women. Of course, it can’t just be any woman. They’d have to be a ball of sunshine to my snarky grump. The Enid to my Wednesday. But once they get past that outer layer of bah humbug! they’d find that I can be just as kooky and mischievous and kind-hearted as any chaos gremlin. I mean, staying at home is great but it’s also great to enjoy some fun in the sun and maybe boogie where nobody is watching.

And I did get to enjoy some of that when I was on my overseas trip. It’s a shame that the woman was married and probably wasn’t into other women, though. 

Still, friendship is always an avenue that I’m keen to explore. And it’s always good to expand one’s horizons, I find, and trying new things instead of doubling down on only the familiar. 

And yet, despite all my misgivings with Mr Cellophane, I tried to go for a second date. After all, I was very much distracted by my wet shoes and socks (I think I mentioned it about three or four times). So, we made tentative plans to do so. But during the week til Easter, as we were occasionally texting (and I had to look after my grandmother because my mother had gone on a cruise), I was a little lacklustre in my responses. Didn’t help, of course, that the topics he chose to talk about were very...unexciting. 

To be fair, some of the blame could be laid at my feet as I didn’t try my hardest to be as engaging as possible. But paired with going out, looking out my grandmother and feeling honestly drained from the work week I had, could you blame a girl? 

So, of course, Mr Cellophane became much more hesitant about the whole thing and sought out my opinion before he pulled the plug. Seeing that he was pulling away and not wanting to lead him on with false promises (but still willing to give it a second go just in case), I let him decide and wished him a Happy Easter.

He unmatched me soon after.

Which somewhat bothered me. After all, I was the one that wasn’t attracted to him. That right ought to have gone to me!

Regardless, we shall see how well my dating goes from here on out. Unfortunately, I don’t see it going very well. Most of these dating excursions have me thinking with my head rather than letting my heart decide. And almost always, I find something lacking in a potential partner.

Still, one must persist! For the time being.

At the very least, I’m meeting new people and getting to understand new perspectives. So, that’s a win!

Probably...

Maybe...

Kinda...

Maybe after a year, I’ll pack it all up and just go back to my fictional boyfriends and/ or girlfriends. Why? Well, I’m an independent person who don’t need another individual to define who they are! And I love myself for being the unique combination of chaos gremlin and sarcastic homebody grouch that I am.

#personal blog #dating #kurtosh #chicago #being a grouch

[selamat-linting]

i've been playing the sims again, this time doing a mini challenge i made for myself.

my sim, misery, she lives up to her name. she's in her room, paranoid and gloomy with nothing but 150 simoleons and a completely empty apartment to her name. she must somehow gain enough money to pay rent and keep herself alive.

on the first day, i made her take increasingly deranged photos of her and her dark and desolate room for a bit of change enough for a pizza and a shitty bed and a debug toilet. my arms was tired by the end of it just from taking pictures. she was so poor she cant afford a stove. she had to force herself to eat spoiled pizza. she spend a day and a half completely filthy until we could scrounge up enough pennies for a shower. And then i began to look for jobs that might fit her disposition. at first she got a job as a critic, that is to be a hater online. but she soon quits after her second day when i found out she has to review street performances and have a computer. there are zero jobs that allow her to stay inside without visiting any venue or talking to people.

we did have enough cash collected for an easel, and some of the dust bunnies gave her random fruits to eat. the next few days, misery did non-stop painting, enough for a fridge to keep her food from spoiling and a computer set. i then made her apply for a job as a painter, but turns out you have to leave the house for that so i made her ran away from her office in the middle of the workday and was immediately fired.

she's now painting her way to freedom. the money we saved is enough to pay the rent, but our situation is still very precarious. an emergency like a fine or a fire or a is still disastrous despite us frantically working every day. misery also gets burnout. to combat the burnout, i made her read books and spend time on the computer to play video games. she likes it, but i do notice her propensity to autonomously change passwords and troll people in forums. she's slowly gaining fame and notoriety as that hikikomori painter who did photography projects of her creepy apartment that she cant leave. so, she have been getting offers to make endorsement vids and ragebait to promote products off her socials. she cant make it though, because we cant afford the video mixing station. one time several people broke into her place. i make her fight them all before telling them to go away. her reputation is in the red.

so thats my girl, misery. she's internet famous but hated by her neighbors and randos, she's burned out but she's one financial emergency away from eviction so she has to work no matter what, she doesn't want to go outside, and she sells pics of herself that are undervalued and underappreciated just so she could afford to eat. her eyebags got eyebags. she's a brilliant artist, but she can never keep any decoration in her house because she cant afford art despite producing three paintings every single day. they are tempting her to become an angry influencer and a lolcow just so she can have enough money to survive. her room is filthy and she fucking stinks. all she do is make art for other people, spend time on the computer, and sleep. she has level 3 mischief purely from autonomous trolling. misery grew so jaded one of her traits got replaced with the mean trait. And she's my favorite. I swear girl, by the end of the year i will make you a comfortable, fancy home and a group of friends who accepts you for who you are. you will end this life happy and in love with the sun and the outside world!!!!!

#sims stuff

[peachsayshi]

Chapter 2 - Bare

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Nipple Play, Naked Female/Clothed Male, Foreplay on Kitchen Counter, Dirty Talk

Summary: Gojo is aware that you still aren't comfortable with the boundaries of your new arrangement but when you show up at his apartment wearing a skirt that he absolutely adores on you, the sorcerer finds it hard to resist his urges and does his best to persuade you into using him as much as he enjoys using you.

A/N: ~ in which Gojo is just a plain, old tease ~

- - - 

How can such a flimsy piece of fabric incapacitate the great sorcerer?

You showed up tonight wearing a black skirt that Gojo secretly adored on you. He loved the way it cinched around your waist and flared out delicately, cutting off just a few inches above your mid-thigh. He could not understand what it was about the skirt that turned him on so much but every time he saw you in this particular piece of clothing, the man found himself unable to stop his imagination from going. He had a hard time resisting his urges and usually would take care of himself on his own after seeing you. He would picture you on your knees, your skirt bunched up at the waist as he would thrust from behind…

Pay attention, he grumbled to himself.

He didn’t mean to ignore you but you’ve been a complete distraction since you walked through his door. He was trying his best to listen to you talk about your day as you sauntered around his kitchen but was busy staring at your hips swaying from side to side. Thankfully he was wearing his shades so you couldn’t tell that his mind was wandering.

Two weeks had passed since you came over to his place with your proposition but nothing went beyond heated make out sessions. Gojo knew you still weren’t quite used to this little arrangement. Which is why despite the two of you planning on seeing each other to "grab drinks", he would usually let you ramble about whatever was on your mind for thirty minutes before the two of you actually got down to any of the fun stuff.

“ Gojo , are  you listening to me? ”

Your question snapped him out of it. He angled his head down towards you, noticing that you were standing right in front of him.

“Of course I was listening!” he replied defensively.

You raised your brows, your face unamused by his response.

“Oh, really? Then what did I just ask you?”

He froze, realizing you caught him in his lie. Raising his arms up in defeat he scoffed before admitting, “okay, I wasn’t listening but it’s not my fault you talk so much.”

“ You are saying that I talk a lot? You ?”

“Yes I am”

“Well, I guess your bad habits are just rubbing off on me.”

“My bad habits?!”

“Seriously, that mouth of yours never stops running. You’re like a broken radio. The volume doesn’t work and no matter how hard you try, you can't switch over to another station to listen to something better,” you teased with a smile.

“Is that right?”

Gojo halted your little bantering session by abruptly reaching for your waist to pull you close to him. He spun you around so your back was pressed against his kitchen island before leaning down and bringing his lips to your ear.

“Is my voice really that annoying?” he whispered. “Because you didn’t seem to think so the other night when I was doing this…”

He sensed the shift in your body language, your heart skipping a beat at his question and the way you tensed up against his frame. He had to admit, he thoroughly enjoyed teasing you, this was different from the casual flirting he was used to because nothing is holding him back from having his way with you now.

He laughed against your ear, “not so chatty now are we?”

Picking you up by your legs, Gojo lifted you onto the countertop with ease.

“No blindfold today?” you asked, finally finding your words as your pretty eyes stared directly into his own while you both faced one another.

“These count,” he replied, referring to his sunglasses.

Gojo’s eyes trailed from your neck to naval until it reached the band of your skirt. His hands were gripping onto your waist, that hungry blue gaze filled with nothing but need. He noticed your stare fixated on his lips but he wasn’t going to give in by kissing you just yet, he wanted to continue figuring you out, surveying all the different places he could touch you just to hear you call out his name.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, his index finger tapping against your top.

You nodded your head politely and he smiled.

This side of you amused him. Despite your reservations, you’ve been quite bold about your needs and he couldn’t help but admire this newfound confidence you had, totally flattered that you were willing to show it off for him.

He tossed your top over his shoulder, his fingers trailing up your spine until it reached for the band of your bra.

“How about this?”

You bit your bottom lip, your hands dancing up his chest until it reached for the collar of his black tee.

“Maybe if you actually paid attention to what I was saying, I might be more willing…” You pushed him away, clearly having fun with him but inhaled when you felt his other hand move up across your stomach to cup your left breast.

“I didn’t invite you over to talk,” he answered calmly. “If that’s the case then we can reschedule this for another time...”

You pursed your lips, tempting him even further for a kiss but he saw that expression on your face that indicated you had no interest in stopping. You tugged at the clasp in front of your chest before telling him, “this is where the hook is.”

The smirk on his face spread into a wolfish grin as he eagerly unfastened your bra. He hummed with pleasure, dropping your undergarments to the side, tilting his head to get proper look at you and noticing the way he tightened against his pants soaking in the image before him.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” he complimented. “Lay down for me...”

You lowered yourself on your forearms against the marble counter watching as Gojo adjusted his stance before hovering his long torso above yours.

“Get comfortable, I don’t plan on rushing anything.”

Your face was a little flushed and you hesitated underneath him, fully aware of him absorbing your half naked state. You allowed yourself to lay flat on your back against the countertop, lifting slightly when the cold surface touched your skin. Gojo planted a kiss on your neck, nipping at it before brushing down your collarbone. You shivered feeling his breath against you, his hands kneading your breasts as he placed another kiss between them. The pads of his thumbs began to rub your nipples, causing them to perk up at his touch. Your mouth parted with a sigh and you closed your eyes, finally allowing your body to relax. He lips replaced his thumb as he enclosed his mouth over your hardened nipple and he flicked his tongue earning a satisfied exhale in response.

Gojo’s senses worked differently as everything for him was heightened on another scale.The scent of your perfume intoxicated him, the sound of your heartbeat racing like music to his ears, the vibrations that ran up his arm every time he touched you was like a trigger to his system and you tasted so sweet . He truly appreciated his power for granting him the ability to experience the moment playing out before him.

“ Satoru…” you moaned, your back arching off the counter as you felt him gently bite your sensitive nub. Your hand reached for his hair, your fingers tangling themselves between his white locks.

He bit down a little harder a second time, alternating between his tongue and teeth and causing you to pant before finally releasing you from his mouth.

“Yes?” he purred, noticing the way your legs spread underneath him.

He guided himself to your mouth, finally satisfying your craving by kissing you softly.

Freeing his hair from your grasp, you trailed your fingers along his jaw as you parted your lips, allowing his tongue to slide into your mouth. Gojo continued roaming his hands along your body, gliding down your side before reaching for your leg. He stroked your inner thigh, caressing your soft skin before making his way up to your core, feeling the heat radiate off of you. He groaned into your mouth while palming your underwear with his hand, suddenly very conscious of just how wet you were for him.

Gojo broke free from your kiss, allowing you both to catch your breath for a second as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Whatever time you wasted on small talk, I’m going to compensate for by getting you off so many times you’ll have no idea what to do with yourself when I’m through with you...”

You parted your lips to protest but whimpered instead as his fingers began working your wet cunt over the fabric of your underwear. He moved in slow circular motions, a light pressure at first but increasing with intensity as he gradually picked up the pace.

“ Fuck ,” you whined, catching your bottom lip between your teeth.

You were wriggling underneath him, your body rising and falling with every move he made. He returned to playfully suck on your nipples, pleasuring you with ease.

“ Touch me …” you begged, “ Please… ”

Your words were enough to convince him. The man tugged at the cotton fabric you were wearing before motioning his finger over your swollen clit. You were driving his patience with how wet you were getting but he was forcing himself to control his urges.

He dragged his middle finger along your slit before inserting it inside you. Naturally, your hips rolled with his movement and he slowly pulled out before pushing back in again with a little more force.

“ Ohhh , that feels good...”

Gojo couldn’t hide his own enjoyment. This was better than anything he had ever imagined about you. He was about to release years of pent up frustration on you. All those times you two spent alone together where he would draw his attention on your lips or think about what you were wearing underneath your clothes  and wonder how well you would take his dick if given the opportunity....

He had a revelation of how much he actually wanted you. His fantasies solely focused around you and regardless of who he was with, you were still the object of his desires.

The one person he was desperate to fuck.

Gojo pushed his finger all the way in, his thumb pressing down on your clit as he rubbed with speed. Your body shivered again, your moans growing louder as you clung onto his sleeve for support, feeling yourself coming undone beneath him. He felt you tense around him, your body contracting before finally releasing as the first wave of pleasure traveled through you.

He pulled his finger out, keeping your legs spread for him as he stood upright and watching you with approval. Your first orgasm illuminated your gorgeous face but he had no intention of giving you a break just yet. He proceeded to hook his fingers around your underwear, prompting you to lift your hips up as he stripped you of the fabric.

“That’s one…” he stated, ensuring you knew he was keeping his word.

He noticed you reach for the zipper of your skirt, ready to strip off the last article of clothing you had on.

He grabbed your wrists, pinning both your hands down by your sides before reaching for his glasses and dragging it down slightly along his nose so you only caught a glimpse of those blue eyes looking at you.

" The skirt stays on, ” he demanded before pushing back his frames and releasing you from his grip.

"As you wish...”

“Now then,” he continued, returning his attention onto your legs. He lifted your skirt higher until he granted himself a full view of your bare pussy. Licking his lips with anticipation, he lowered himself down before looking up at you with a teasing smile. “Let me show you exactly what this mouth of mine can do...”

- CHAPTER 3: CALL - 

#Gojo Satoru x reader #Gojo Satoru x female reader #Gojo Satoru x ofc #Gojo Satoru fanfic #Gojo smut #Gojo fluff #Gojo angst #Gojo Satoru #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen

[sweetcathedral]

🖤Hero Academia — Aizawa🖤

Note: I thought I’d post an old work here. Also, b/c I’m seeing a lot of minors migrate to ao3, I’m thinking of switching all my works to here since it’s easier to monitor, which means I’m deleting my ao3.

⚠️: bulge, breeding, somnophilia, cnc

He’s late. Just as you thought, but that’s expected of Pro Heroes and you can’t blame him for being one. You knowingly accepted your common law conditions, so you can’t complain. You reached for your phone hoping to see his name tangled within the notifications.

NekoZawa: late

Was the only message that caught your attention with a little bit of disappointment. Deep down you already knew it’d come to this, but you still can’t help feeling let down a bit. As you were about to change out of your getup a series of sharp knocks startled you, catching you off guard.

“It’s mee!” shouted the familiar voice.

Midnight?!

You rushed to open the door.

“Kayama? You’re ba—,”

“Ahhhh! So cute, so delicate, just youth!” she huffed in excitement at the sight of your longline lace bra and single-ruffled panties.

“Ah! Wai—youth? You know we're not that far in age,” you said, as you try to hide behind the door.

“Please, I'd kill to be 5 years younger, and don’t even try hiding from me. Even though he doesn’t care much about looks this definitely falls within his tastes,”

You blushed at the compliment, wishing it had come out of Aizawa’s mouth instead.

“Anyways,” she continued, “how about some bubble tea? I got your favourite,” she whipped out a bag of drinks from behind her. You wonder if she knew of your plans and came to cheer you up.

Who am I kidding, she’s an R-rated hero. Her sixth sense is basically her sex sense.

“Yeah, I could use some company,” you smiled in relief, thankful for her sharp intuition.

Before you knew it, 9PM became 11PM in what felt like 30 minutes and that heavy feeling weighing on your chest left after a couple of laughs here and there. You couldn’t help but feel better in the presence of Kayama, you have no choice but to feel better in her presence.

“And after I showed his class a pic of you, that grape idiot said ‘ if that raggedy ass man of a sensei is able to snatch a woman like that then there’s still hope for me, right?! Right?!’ in that stupid lisp of his! I couldn’t help, but cackle in his face! Hahahahahahahaha!”

“Grape idiot?!,” you laughed, almost choking on your tapioca.

“It caused this huge uproar which took Aizawa an hour to settle down,”

“Sounds like an exaggeration to me,”

“Really? Then I’d have to ask Principal Nezu for permission to let you visit. Hmmm, maybe a surprise visit during his birthday, I’d get to see that purple shit bleed from his eyes again. Hah!” she said, her sadistic side twinkling in her eyes.

You could tell she wasn’t lying about the surprise visit as she hummed her thoughts between sips of beer. Although you know how much Aizawa likes to keep his private life separate from his professional life, your thoughts couldn’t help but ponder in curiosity at how he acts around his infamous class 1-A students. All he ever does is complain about them every time you ask, but just thinking about him acting like the strict teacher Kayama says he is . . . makes . . . you . . .

“Oi, oooii . . . I said OI!”

“Gah!”

“What the hell’s got you blushing like a dazed mess?”

“Blushing? . . . !”

You clasp your hands over your face, as if you’re trying to keep your thoughts and daydreams from escaping. You let your imagination run wild just from thinking about Aizawa as a teacher — his strict demeanour and cold eyes piercing through you . . . his deep growls muffled at the base of your neck as his grip tightens around your waist and hair . . .

“Oh! What time is it?” Kayama exclaimed, disrupting your thoughts.

You reach for your phone to check the time, seeing 11:17PM illuminating from the screen before flipping it to Kayama.

“Perfect!”

You cock your head to the side trying to think of what could make Kayama that excited, but before you could react, her quirk had already taken hold of your consciousness.

Aizawa let out a heavy sigh staring at the time on his phone. It wasn’t the first time he’d let you down like that, even though it’s out of his control he still can’t help feeling disappointed in himself. Pro Heroes always have unpredictable schedules, but still, he’d wish his schedule had gone his way today.

“Thanks as always, Eraserhead. I’ll send the details your way once we’ve confirmed the date,” Tsukauchi reassured, dismissing him for the day. Aizawa nodded in response, finally, he thought. As he walked out of the station, his phone vibrated.

Ugh, what now?

He reached for his phone and unlocked his screen.

Kayama? Probably just more cat pics.

But much to his surprise, the series of pics caused him to stop in his tracks.

Kayama: Bon appétit! *kissy face*

Was the only message that followed at the end of the series of pics. After Kayama used her quirk to put you to sleep, she happily cleaned the place up and settled you prettily onto the bed in an innocent, but also, somewhat tempting position. Who could blame her? She had a knack for setting up tempting situations for her best friends. Aizawa tapped on each pic, examining the details of your delicate lace bra and fluttery panties. He really wished his schedule had gone his way today. The longer he stared at each pic, the bigger his temptation and pent up emotions grew — frustration, doubt, confusion, jealousy, anger, greed, love, lust, it was causing him to lose all sense of logic. You were causing him to lose all sense of logic and he hated it. It’s his first time experiencing something like this, he’d never romantically loved anyone until you came into his life. At first you were just like any other Pro Hero he teamed up with in previous missions, but the mission you two took on escalated into an emotional high profile case, which caused him to spend more time with you. One thing led to another and now, you’re each other’s common-law spouse. Both of you could care less about the huge wedding traditions of planning a wedding day, banquet halls, invitations and all that, but unexpectedly, he did buy you a wedding ring — a customized designer ring at that. Not only does he not care about appearances, but he also doesn’t seem to care about prices, so long as it serves its purpose.

“Uh, Eraserhead? Everything okay?” Officer Sansa tapped on Aizawa’s shoulder, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, Detective Tsukauchi already settled on a date already?” Aizawa quickly locked his phone and tucked it back into his pocket.

“Um, no, he was actually worried about you . . . you’ve been standing still here for a while now, just staring at your phone . . .”

The logical Pro Hero himself didn’t even realize that he stopped walking and was surprised to see the station still behind him. Tch .

“. . . yeah, I think I should head home now. Someone’s waiting for me. Thanks, Officer Sansa.”

He waved at the cat officer before tucking his hand back into his pocket, unconsciously digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands in frustration. He hated this feeling . . . and he can’t wait to take it out on you .

Aizawa hesitates to open the door, unsure of how he’d react when he sees you for himself. He carefully turns the knob, making sure not to make a noise that’ll wake you from your peaceful slumber. You were just like the pics Kayama sent him — back exposed with the soft glow of the city night lights highlighting your dainty shoulder blades . . . arms clutching the pillow from underneath that pretty little head of yours . . . one leg hitched up to the side while the other was elongated and tucked half way into the sheets . . . As he reached to caress your face, he noticed his hand trembling from suppressing his temptation. Tch. He pulls his hand back in frustration.

“ . . . mmph . . . Shou . . . ta . . .” you murmured in your sleep in between heated breaths.

That was enough for Aizawa to let go of any sense of logic and common sense he had left, and before he knew it, he was hovering over you — the weight of his body sinking into the duvet. His eyes trailing over your features, watching your chest rise and fall with every breath you take — a reassuring feeling that you’re real and very much alive to him. He annoyingly hears his name from the teachers at UA all the time, but when it whispers out from between those pretty lips of yours, it made him experience a feeling he wasn’t used to controlling. He gave in, leaving trails of kisses that slowly turned into hickeys and then bite marks. He felt bad for leaving those marks on your supple skin, but he also wished they were permanent, as if the wedding ring doesn't speak for itself anymore. Aizawa’s grip tightened on your thigh at the thought of anyone else touching you, pinning your leg to your chest. His rough hand traces down your curves before slipping them in between your thighs — a wet sopping mess.

Ah, her panties are ruined . . . shame, he thought as he ripped a slit open, big enough for what you’re about to take in. Whoops . . . I’ll just get her a new one.

The temperature of your body was rising as he continued to press up against you, leaving marks on your collarbone and teasing your insides with his thick calloused fingers. A wave of pleasure ripples through your moonlight kissed skin, slowly pulling you back to your senses. You bat your eyes a few times to shake off the heaviness weighing on your eyelids.

“ . . . Shou—haa . . . !” your body twitched as another wave of pleasure came over you, shaking off your sleepy numbness, awakening your sense of touch as you grip his forearm trying to get him to slow down. It was no use given how enamoured he was with your reaction, your measly grip is as light as a feather against his strength.

“Haa . . . wait . . . slowdow—mmph!,”

Aizawa places his hand over your mouth, silencing your relentless begging. You finally noticed his flushed face and entranced eyes — a face you’re not used to seeing.

“Shut up, if you know what’s good for you,” his deep voice reverberated in your ear, sending a ripple of shivers down your neck. He was a completely different person in a completely different headspace. The only thing that can bring him back to his senses is your safe word, but you know that if you give in he’d completely stop and resist touching you for days as penance for losing control. But . . . you love it when he loses control along with his sense of logic, so you melt into your favourite position, signaling him to release all his pent up emotions in you — a mating press. You bite your trembling lower lip, begging with your wet eyes as a smirk played across his face. He gently kisses your forehead before pulling down his bottoms, revealing his thick throbbing cock. Your cunt twitched at the sight of it, squeezing out your fluids, dripping down like honey.

“How badly do you want it?”

“. . . badly . . . Shou~ta~ . . .” you cooed.

His cock twitched at the sound of your light and airy voice, precum drips onto the sheets.

“Not yet,” he said as he began stroking his cock on your clit, making sure not to let an inch slip inside you. The sensation drives you crazy as you whimper and whine for him to fill you up inside, desperately begging with your hips. But Aizawa’s firm grip on your thighs won’t let you, and keeps you from getting what you want. You miss the feeling of being bred full . His strokes were getting faster, his panting turning into growls. Your body tensed and toes curled as the feeling came closer, letting a desperate sigh escape from your mouth.

“Already? But I’m not done with you yet,” he playfully whispers in your ear before ramming himself inside you.

“Haa!” you yelped.

Your plump walls twitch at the sudden movement, tightening itself around his cock.

“That’s my good girl,” he chuckled, cockingly.

Tears well up in your eyes as you bite back your whimpering. He grabs your hand and firmly places it on your lower abdomen,

“Do you feel me? I’m right here.”

With your hand firmly placed on your stomach, you can feel his bulge every time he strokes his cock in you. He keeps it there, so that you have no choice but to feel it until the very end — up until his cum fills you up inside. His long strokes began to shorten, each stroke getting harder than the last and unable to hold in your pants and moans. Not only can you feel the warmth fill you up, but you can also feel his cock releasing globs of his milk from the bulge protruding from your lower abdomen. Your fingers dance around it making him twitch, his bruising grip tightening around your wrist.

“Fuck,” he grunts, looking down at the mess you both made.

Your cunt was swelling at the amount of cum it’s trying to keep from spilling, gushing out every time your sticky walls twitch. Before Aizawa was about to pull out, you grab his arm,

“Wait . . . not yet,” you must’ve been pouting when those words fell off of your swollen lips cause you’ve never seen his features soften like that before. He lowers himself, feeling his weight sinking into the bed as he tenderly kisses your forehead, brushing your slick baby hairs from your face . . . the warmth of his forehead resting against yours . . . the reassuring feeling of his hand gently cupping your flushed cheeks . . . You reach for his face, thumbing the scar under his eye, diving in for a deeper kiss and wrapping your arms around him. His heart begins to beat harder as you begin to feel his cock swelling up again from inside you.

#☕️.aizawa #Nanami’s gone for awhile #but Aizawa is back ☺️ #Aizawa brainrot #ao3 no more!! #aizawa fanfiction #aizawa fic #aizawa smut #bnha smut #bnha fic #tw: cnc #tw: somnophilia #tw: breeding #Aizawa season 5

[yoditorian]

a law divine - 1

soulmate au!ezra/reader

this is solely the fault of one single anon who called out something i put in the tags and now it’s a whole universe but you know what?? it’s the love of my life. anon i hope u see this 💛 i also just want to say i know there isn’t A Lot of soulmate talk in this one but it’s important for the narrative okay bear with me

playlist // series masterlist // main masterlist 

word count: 7.2k (a Big Boy)

warnings: swearing, my usual allusions to smut bc we keep things neutral in this house, brief food/alcohol mentions, 18+ please no babies

It might be the ugliest ship you’ve ever seen.

Not that you’re really one to judge, the one you charter out when you’re running point on a job is a mismatched patchwork of rusty panels held together with electrical tape and hope. If there’s the slightest possibility you might be a teeny tiny bit disappointed in it, it’s only because agency jobs are usually a little cushier. A little safer for once. You could do with a bit safer. 

Your family might prefer a lot safer, but you’d sooner take your chances in open space without a suit than take a job working scrapyards. At least risking your life on digs gets a decent payout.

“You the danger mouse?” 

It’s not an accent you hear often on the Pug, the majority of the station’s population is human, but you turn with a smile to meet the bright purple eyes of the Thanne. Armour-strong scales and sharp teeth, but he seems kind and mild mannered despite his clear predatory biology. You nod as you readjust the pack on your shoulders.

“I’m Iras.” He holds his hand out to you. A distinctly human gesture made a little awkward by the sharp edged scales and extra fingers, but you shake it nonetheless. He’s your captain for this job after all. You wonder where a Thanne became so well versed in human custom, the species as a whole tend to keep to themselves instead of branching out into the universe like so many others, until his crew members appear on the boarding ramp.

Iras gestures to each of them in turn. Summer, a blonde woman with dark skin and a kind smile, and Milo, an older man with a swirling tattoo above his left eyebrow that matches the navy blue of his eyes.

“Is it just us?” You ask. You could have sworn there was a fifth name on the manifest you’d been forwarded, but teams are always subject to change. You just hope you’ll have your own room.

“Ezra always leaves things down to the wire, he’ll show up right before we’re due to push out.” Summer laughs fondly, throwing an arm around your shoulders like she’s known you her whole life. You’re usually a little wary with brand new teams but the way she’s already chatting away makes you feel at home. The last agency job you were sent on got dicey, fast, somehow you’re sure the same won’t happen with this lot.

“There he is.” Milo leans out of the ship to point out into the docks. 

You turn to see a man sauntering through the throngs of harvesters towards the ship, and it’s odd. The rest of the crowd seems to melt away as he closes the distance, even the weight of Summer’s arm on your shoulders feels not quite there. You take the moment to study him. He looks all business with his dark hair and his charcoal grey shirt and the neat pack slung over his shoulder, but his pants and boots have seen better days and the streak of blonde at his temple makes you smile. It’s nice to finally be with a crew without a single stuffy addition. 

“It’s not often I get to congregate with like-minded souls.” He grins when he’s in earshot, a flash of something feline in his eyes. You don’t want to admit that you like it.

“Like-minded?” You tilt your head at him as you follow Summer up the ramp and into the ship. Ezra slips in behind you just as it starts to raise. Just like the others said.

“We’ve all got the same death wish, Sunspot.”

The launch, at least, is smooth despite the beaten up ship and it’s only about twenty minutes before you’re far enough from the Pug to punch a lane to the next system over. At least it isn’t far, there’s only a day between now and making planetfall. Somehow, you’re not surprised to find that it’s more of a barracks and bunk beds situation rather than each having a private quarters. Last time you were hired by the agency, you definitely got your own room. But it gives you a chance to chat with the others as you unpack. 

Milo explains the air isn’t breathable, so he’ll need to double check to make sure everyone’s filters are running at capacity. But he reassures you that it’s a comfortable temperature, so it’s good to know you won’t be sweltering in your suits or freezing your asses off. 

You pick the bed on the wall beside the door, taking out a few essentials from your pack and tucking the rest safely away in the storage compartment. Just as he did back at the docks, Ezra is the last to find his way to the room. He settles his things on the bunk opposite yours because the universe has it out for you, apparently. 

“Did I hear one of them call you the danger mouse?” 

You struggle not to roll your eyes at the nickname awarded to anyone stupid enough to do your job, although admittedly he doesn’t sound like he knows why. You offer him your name instead and pretend the way he rolls it around in his mouth doesn’t send a shock right down to your bones. You’re not in the habit of sleeping with colleagues, not until the job’s over at least. But you’d be lying if you said you’re not tempted.

“They call me in when a site’s unstable but too profitable to close.” You answer, tugging your sleeves up as the climate control settles to a comfortable temperature.

Ezra raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue, and you pull off your gloves. They land on your thin mattress as you hold your hands out between you. Not even the slightest twitch.

“Steadiest hands on the Pug.”

“So they are.” There’s a challenge in his voice that threatens to send a shiver up your spine. It’s clear he doesn’t doubt your skill in the field, but the return of that glint in his eye from the docks has you wondering exactly what else he’s thinking about as he studies your hands. It’s not hard to work out.

It’s been so long since you had to travel out of the system, you forgot how much inter-system lanes can fuck with the human brain. You’re half asleep for the thirty minutes you spend sorting your things for the morning, barely enough energy to change into the sweatpants and ratty t-shirt you call pyjamas, before you crawl into bed and settle down almost immediately.

Only you don’t get to sleep for as long as you’d like. The rest of the crew seem to have filtered in after you, the shift of sheets and snores float through the dimmed room. Except, it’s not just that. There’s shuffling and bed creaking from further down the line of bunks. A hushed giggle sounds in the silence and-

 Oh god. Oh no.

They’re not. They can’t be, they- they are. 

You’re very awake all of a sudden, eyes wide as you keep them firmly on the ceiling and wishing as hard as you can for an alarm to start beeping or something. Anything to get whoever’s banging Summer to stop. A deep voice hushes her when she laughs again. Iras. Knowing is somehow worse. The mechanics- you don’t even want to think about it. 

You turn onto your side slowly, but loud enough to hint that maybe they should find somewhere else for their escapades, and fold your pillow around your head as a kind of makeshift set of earmuffs. Whether they’ve quieted down or it muffles the noise, you’re not sure, but it seems to have worked enough. You catch Ezra’s eye in the almost-darkness, much in the same position as he holds his pillow over his own ears. 

It’s embarrassing for the both of you, even as you share a conspiratorial look. But somehow, it’s less awkward to have to hear Iras and Summer going at it when you know he’s awake. He winces when a particularly loud squeak echoes through the room, and it takes everything in you not to bust out laughing. You fall asleep again eventually, making faces at Ezra in the dark until neither of you can keep your eyes open anymore.

You’re surprisingly well rested come the morning, when the whole ship jolts as it punches into the system and you’re almost thrown out of bed. So much so that it’s easy to forget that you woke up at all until you shuffle into the main living compartment of the ship. One of the crates by the wall has been cracked open, Milo hands out granola bars for breakfast.

Summer and Iras are sitting in the same chair, feeding each other, and it might be cute if you’d been awake longer and hadn’t been woken up by their activities in the middle of the night. You slump into a free chair,  face twisted in disgust for a moment. You’re pretty sure nobody else sees until Ezra laughs and drops into the seat beside you. They’re nice people, from how they took you as a friend immediately, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s just a bit much for your perpetually single heart to take. 

“It’s a week-long job, they can’t take a break?” You watch as they finally pry themselves apart to start, you know, actually working. But not without a genuinely gross kiss that definitely toes the line of public decency. Suddenly the half-eaten bar in your hand isn’t all that appealing anymore.

“Soulmates take no breaks, Sunspot. I’m sure yours would be hard pressed to be anywhere but in bed with you whenever they get the chance.” Ezra winks and it takes you a moment to remember where you are. A glance at the pair makes your new knowledge obvious, the way they seem to be touching, even now, on opposite sides of the room. 

“I’m not sure I believe in all that red string stuff.”

Once the ship is safely landed a short walk from the site, the days you spend digging pass with ease. The deposit is a decent size, it takes all five of you to cover it completely, and the payout should be enough to keep you all comfortable for a little while even with the agency’s cut. The crew around you fill the time enough that you barely notice the week coming to a close. 

Summer sings in the mornings as she cleans her equipment and readies her pack for the day. Miles talks gently to the cells as though they can hear him, shushing them any time he worries a gem might corrupt. Iras seems to have a secret superpower when it comes to the ration packs, they always taste better when he’s the one on lunch duty. And Ezra spends the afternoons regaling you all with tales of ancient beasts, laying eggs that fossilise into the very gems you’re harvesting. Although you’re not sure how true they are. 

You almost get through the whole dig without a hitch. Almost. But aurelac is a tricky thing, even a change in the wind can turn a site for the worst. You’re all sitting around at lunch when it happens. The telltale smoke wafts up into the air for no visible reason at all and although you’ve collected enough to cover the quota, you’d still rather not lose viable gems.

“Get to what you came here for.” Iras gestures in your direction and you dive into the pit head first.

You’re not even sure you stop to think as you follow the harvesting steps at lightning speed, salvaging half the corrupted cells before someone tugs you out by the collar of your suit. The rest of the site starts to smoke the moment you’re out of range, spitting and hissing and rendering the rest of the gems worthless. 

“Danger mouse indeed.” Ezra chuckles over the comm system, hand still fisted in the fabric of your suit. For once, the nickname makes you smile.

While you all go your separate ways after the ship has docked back on the Pug, Summer makes you all promise to meet later at a club you’ve only heard of in your friends’ messy night out stories. Still, you pinky swear when she holds her hand out to you and try to remember if you have a single item in your wardrobe that’ll pass as club attire. Or at least something that isn’t so worn there are holes in it. 

Even if it’s a song he knows, there’s no chance that Ezra could recognise it with the volume cranked so high through the cheap speaker that everything but the beat is distorted. Still, it doesn’t stop people from dancing. 

He’s a little late, as usual, but he doesn’t need to worry as Iras appears behind him and claps a hand on his shoulder, pointing to a booth across the room where Milo is looking increasingly uncomfortable.

It doesn’t take long for Ezra to spot you and Summer in the middle of the dance floor, as he follows Iras around the edge of the space to the booth Milo’s claimed. You’re both more jumping than dancing, yelling the unintelligible lyrics of the song into each other's faces. He can’t hear your breathless laughter as Summer spins you in a circle, smile wide and bright, but he can feel it in his ribs. The drums of the song kick in at the same time the swirling lights of the club light you up like some kind of celestial being, just as you catch his eye through the crowd. And everyone else disappears. The rest of the world, rest of the universe, fades into the background. Just like they did the first time he saw you, glaring suspiciously at the ship on the docks.

Summer’s dragging you back to the table when the song comes to a close, the both of you out of breath and laughing, and Ezra has to try desperately to remember how to speak when he watches a little bead of sweat slide down the side of your neck. And stop himself from just licking a line straight up it. His silent suffering only increases when Milo holds out a shot of the most potent alcohol the Pug has to offer and you down it without so much as a flinch, winking at him when you return the glass to the table for good measure. 

Milo calls it a night only an hour later, clearly only having braved the crowds of the club to celebrate the job. Summer and Iras are tangled in each other on the dancefloor, or the booth, as they keep the shots coming. You, at least, decide to keep your wits about you, declining every drink after the one Milo had handed you. Nobody’s going to fuck with a Thanne, even in as seedy a club as this, so you don’t worry about Summer as she gets sloppier and sloppier. But there’s no spiky non-human boyfriend looking out for you down here, it’s just you and the knife you keep at your hip.

You pull yourself from the dance floor, eyes tracking the room for the missing member of your party, until you feel a set of eyes on you from above. Ezra’s leaning on the bannister of the stairs, his unflinching gaze set solely on you. And you can’t help but smile. You follow him up to the mezzanine without hesitation when he glances upwards and back to you. The buzz of the shot has mostly faded from your veins, replaced by something much more dangerous by the way he’s looking at you. The way he’s looked at you since you met him.

It’s not hard to spot your friends from up here, leaning over the barrier with Ezra to people watch. He crafts stories about every stranger who catches his eye. The man hunched over the bar in a beaten up jacket, the waitress who fiddles with her necklace any time her hands aren’t occupied, the pair of lovers tucked away in the dark corner on the other side of the mezzanine. You find yourself sliding closer to him the more he talks, wrapped up in the warmth of his voice even in the rundown club. Your shoulder knocks into his as you mindlessly bop to the music and listen to his made up stories. Utterly enchanted. It’s hard to remember a time when you felt this way with anybody, if you ever did at all. To tell the truth, it’s hard to remember anyone before Ezra. And neither of you have even made a move yet.

He's got his arms braced on the barrier, and you find yourself lifting the one closest to you so you can slip in between them. Surrounded on all sides and you couldn’t feel more comfortable. To his credit, he doesn’t falter in his vivid storytelling about the group now settled in the booth your crew had claimed earlier, not even a stutter as you turn in his arms to face him. He’s decided they’re here to celebrate the beginning of a new job, rather than a successful harvest. His eyes flick to you for the barest moment, enough to notice yours are firmly focused on the way his lips move around his words, before searching the club below for another story. Another way to keep his mind and mouth occupied so he doesn’t accidentally admit all the sinful things he wants to do to you when you press your ass up against him like that. 

“Ezra.”

He shouldn’t be able to hear you over the music, but you’re nose to nose and he’d be hard pressed to ignore the way you practically purr his name. He’s expecting you to make another flirty comment in that voice that sends his mind reeling into all manner of indecent places the same way you have been all night.

“Can I kiss you?”

He doesn’t expect you to just outright ask him. 

“Yeah.” Yeah. Hell of a time for his eloquence to fail, not that it matters anyway. You’re on him the moment he stops speaking.

It’s like the sun explodes inside him, the way his stomach bottoms out the second your lips touch his. There’s nothing soft about it, not the way he might have imagined there would be. If he’d been so bold as to let himself imagine what kissing you might be like. You’re all warmth and heat and you still taste a little bit like the shot you’d thrown back earlier, and he finds himself falling. Not that Ezra minds, he hopes his parachute never opens if it means you’ll keep kissing him like this. 

You let your fingers roam under his jacket, twist themselves in the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and you sigh into his mouth. God, you knew he’d be good at this. His hands leave a trail of starlight as they trace over your body, never quite choosing a place to rest. They start to settle on your shoulders, only to skim down your arms and squeeze harshly on your waist, to play along the strip of skin he finds just underneath the hem of your shirt, to grip harder than he might mean to onto the meat of your ass through your pants. You gasp, break the kiss for barely a moment, and stop his apology in its tracks. 

He doesn’t protest when you walk him backwards, still groping at each other like it’s just the two of you in the whole club. Ezra only groans when his back hits the wall and you push even closer into him, as if there was even any space left for air between your bodies already. He’s not about to complain. He could kiss you for a thousand years and it still wouldn’t be enough. It’’ll never be enough, not for a soul as hungry as his. You pull back too soon, far too soon, and it takes a solid minute for his brain to kick in and break the vice grip he still has a little too low for the public eye.

Oh, that look on your face. He’s in trouble.

“Where are you off to?” Ezra asks, flushed and breathless, a hand stretched halfway out to where you’re backing toward the stairs.

“Home,” You say with a sly smile, “You coming?”

He can’t push off the wall fast enough. 

You don’t live far from the club, a ten minute walk at the most, but Ezra manages to make it a solid twenty with the way he keeps pulling you to him. Not that you’re about to complain. You’ve been waiting a week to let him get his hands on you. At the press of his lips on your neck, the shudder it sends down your spine, you wonder if part of you has been waiting even longer than that. 

You’re trying, desperately, to type in the keycode to your apartment. If Ezra could calm down with the grabby hands, you might have gotten it right straight away. 

“No roommates?” He asks, kissing along your shoulder, and you take the temporary reprieve to kick your brain into gear and remember the fucking numbers. 

“Hugo won’t be too upset if I make him sleep on the couch.” 

The door slides back into the wall to reveal a dark apartment, a strip of light from the hall falling on a very orange cat. He stares at you for a second, clearly not particularly pleased that he’s been so rudely roused from a nap, before he settles back to sleep stretched out on the couch cushions. Hugo. Ezra is silently relieved that the roommate is just a cat, he’s not sure he’s got the self control to stay quiet tonight. Or to make sure you do. 

You waste no time once you gesture for Ezra to walk in ahead of you, flicking the switch on the wall to slide the door shut and pulling him back to your lips. He doesn’t hesitate to crowd you up against the cold metal. 

Although you could devour each other until the closest sun explodes and swallows the station whole, Ezra has to break away. To think, to breathe, to tease you a little about the moan he just swallowed from you. But you beat him to it.

“Gotta catch your breath?” The smile on your face threatens to make his knees buckle, and with you pressed up against the closed door the way you are? He might just let them. 

“What do you want, Sunspot?” 

You left a lamp on in your bedroom, the door cracked just enough to let a little filter through to the main living space. Still, he’s almost completely silhouetted against the warm yellow glow. As if he’s some kind of ethereal being, maybe he is.

“Make me see the stars.” You pull him in as close as you can and let your lips brush over his as you whisper. His next words make you shudder almost as much as the way he drags the zipper of your jacket down, slowly, tooth by tooth. 

“As you wish.” 

And boy, does he deliver.

You’re expecting things to feel more unfamiliar than they do, as you explore each other for the first time, but it’s like you’ve been here before. Once, twice, a hundred times before. Every move feels oddly choreographed. Ezra knows exactly how to take you apart and put you back together again, the way he pulls every twitch and moan out of you so expertly. You’re no different, as your fingers map the plains of his chest like it’s muscle memory. 

You shake it off, put the thoughts to the back of your mind. You’ve been around the block a little in your time on the Pug, it only makes sense that he has the same kind of experience. But shared experience or not, you can’t deny how much having him so close feels like a homecoming of sorts.

It’s the best sleep of your whole fucking life and, honestly, you’re not that surprised. Ezra makes a damn good pillow. Even if you both wake hours later into the day cycle than either of you normally would. Even if he’s more of a morning person than you are. It’s kind of nice, to sit still snuggled in your pile of blankets and watch him potter around your apartment as Hugo winds around his ankles like he’s been there for years. 

Your fridge, however, is heartbreakingly empty and renders his offer of making breakfast pointless. Instead, he pulls his shirt on and offers to take you to the best little diner he knows, tucked away in the heart of the marketplace. It’s a hard offer to turn down.

“What kind of gentleman would I be to have so much income at my disposal and not treat such a beauty as yourself to a good meal?” He winks as he flashes his credit chit at you as if you didn’t scan in for your paychecks at the same time. You laugh as you empty a food pouch into Hugo’s bowl, and tell him he better show you all the good breakfast spots. You shrug off his raised eyebrow and mutters of a ‘next time’. As if he didn’t already know.

Still, Ezra takes you by the hand the moment your apartment door secures itself shut behind you, leading you through the hall and out into the street, and you’ve never felt more wanted.

It’s like everything’s brighter, walking leisurely through the bustling market stalls with Ezra. The smells are stronger as spices in the air cling to your nose, the cacophony of vendors calling out almost sounds like music, and you start to laugh. Hand in his, in the middle of the maze of stalls full of food and tools and trinkets. As if it’s just the two of you in the whole universe. 

At least Ezra doesn’t look back at you like you’re crazy. He smiles too, just as big, and you feel bathed in warmth the same as when the sun comes out planetside.

You’re both still grinning when he leads you deeper through the market, down an alley and up a flight of stairs to an unassuming door.

“Is this where you murder me?” You joke just as the door opens to reveal a short older woman with an eyepatch, who pulls Ezra down into a tight hug as soon as he’s in arms reach. He introduces her as Merse, the woman who’s run the best diner no one’s ever heard of on the whole station. She slaps his arm for his cheek, but her grin grows twice as wide when she spots your intertwined hands. 

Ezra pulls you through the doorway after him as he follows Merse, chatting about how she always keeps the best table open just in case he brings a friend and you try not to smile too wide when she wiggles her eyebrows at you. He says something to you, but you’re too distracted by the view from the big windows. 

The far wall is completely glass, overlooking the main docks, lined with booths. A small family sits in one of them, their two children standing up on the seats to watch the ships come and go. You’ve never seen it from this angle before, always down in the masses and scanning the boards for new jobs. It’s kind of beautiful. In a rusty, patchwork sort of way.

Merse points you towards one of the booths with a promise that she’ll bring you the best breakfast you’ll ever have, something tells you she’s not lying. 

It’s not long after you slide into the booth that she comes marching out of the kitchen with two plates, wafting steam that makes your mouth water and your stomach rumble. Rice and vegetables and eggs and all sorts of things you’ve never even seen pile high, and you’d worry you wouldn’t be able to finish it all if you weren’t so hungry. 

“You know I won’t break, right?” You push your fork around in the remaining rice on your plate as you watch Ezra absorb your words. He thinks about it for a long moment, dark eyes over you before settling on your own.

“What’s this about?” He knows, you know he knows. More importantly, you know he’s going to make you say it. In the middle of the day cycle, in this family friendly diner. 

“Just,” You exhale sharply, “Making sure you’re aware.” Your body floods with a shyness that’s alien compared to the confidence you had last night and suddenly, your breakfast is the most interesting thing on the Pug. You can practically feel him smiling at you, but you don’t dare look up to meet it. 

He was right though, the food really is some of the best you’ve ever had.

It’s not until you’ve wandered back through the market, still hand in hand, and found your way back to your apartment that Ezra decides to bring it up. He may have been more than a little distracted last night, but he’s sure he spotted a set of old books sitting on a shelf above your couch. You freeze, ready to go on the defensive about how ink and paper will never be obsolete, until you realise he’s genuinely interested. He’s not judging you by any means. Something about the curiosity shining in his eyes makes your heart flutter more than you care to admit. 

He could watch you talk about your books all day, every day, for the rest of his life. How your eyes lit up when you recognised his interest, a paperback lover himself. You can’t seem to stop yourself as you dive into the intricate details of your favourite classics, two or three hundred year old texts that make you feel like you’ve lived a thousand different lives at once. He wants so badly for you to keep talking but the more impassioned you become, the more he wants to kiss you.

You trail off at some point, he loses track when you climb into his lap to point out notes you’ve made in margins and the books lie scattered on the couch beside you as you kiss him until neither of you can breathe. You’re still a little achy from last night, deep in your bones, and you hiss when his teeth scrape across your shoulder.

“Won’t break, is that right?” Ezra chuckles darkly and nips at your jaw, “Can I try?”

“Please.”

You wake at the creak of your bedroom door, sometime in the early hours. Hugo noses his way through the narrow gap and hops up onto the bed, curling up on the unclaimed pillow by your head. Ezra sleeps deeply, face buried in your neck, and you let the warmth of him wash over you. It ebbs and flows like a tide, that familiarity. The undeniable fact that something about this just feels right. You’ve known this man a week and yet you’re here wondering, as he rests in your arms, if he might want more than just this with you. 

Oh, but you are so afraid. Afraid to put a name to anything about him because what then? Will he tell you that you’re simply a placeholder in his life for something better, or that his heart might bleed through his skin when you’re apart? You’re not sure which is worse. Not that it matters, there is no word in any language that would be able to explain exactly how you feel about the man asleep in your arms. It’s enough, you think, to have him with you at all. In any capacity. Whatever pieces of his soul he bares as your breathing evens and his mind wanders. That is enough, and you will protect it with your life.

You have to part ways at some point, of course. Another week of rolling around in your bed sheets together, on the couch, on your pitiful kitchen counter, up against the wall, and Ezra gets a call from the agency. It’s a last minute job, the crew only need an extra set of hands to fit the safety standards, but it’s several systems out from the Pug. It’ll take him away for at least a month. You trail after him at the docks, with promises of messages in his absence and all manner of unsavoury activities on his return. It’s with a deep kiss and a wolf whistle from a couple of dock workers on their break, that you wish him luck. And ask him to hurry back.

Summer’s message surprises you when it dings through on your tablet. Some gajillionaire on Dallore T53 has found an aurelac deposit on the grounds of his new estate and wants it gone. She’s preoccupied, already out on another dig with Iras and a new crew. But it’s the kindness of her even thinking to offer it to you that makes your heart swell. It’s been a while since you’ve had real, honest to god, friends. 

You’d go in alone, normally, for something like this. But now? Now, you’re punching in Ezra’s comm pin before you can even really register what it is that you’re doing. He only got back a week ago, and you made him settle in back home before he could settle in yours. It’s not like the two of you would be doing any resting on his return to your apartment, exactly. The job was a pain, he’d told you, it ran months longer than anyone expected and you’re sure he’s still exhausted. He won’t agree, but you find you have to ask. Just in case.

“Sunspot?” He sounds happy, rested. And you breathe a sigh of relief, at least he can follow your orders when he wants to.

Hugo snakes around your ankles at the familiar voice, the same way he does any time the man himself walks through the door. If you didn’t know that the little orange devil’s alliances lie in who feeds him, you might think he loves him more than you. 

You explain about the job, make sure to stress that he doesn’t have to come. That you don’t even really need to take it if he’d rather you stay close by. Okay, you don’t say that out loud, but the smile you hear in his words through the speaker makes it known that he’s heard you. Loud and clear. 

It doesn’t matter in the end, not when he accepts before you even have a chance to give him any details. You don’t know why you were so worried he might say no.

“Any excuse to be warmed by your light, Sunspot.” Hugo brushes up against your leg at the same time Ezra’s voice practically drips through the speaker, smooth as honey.

“Is that a euphemism?”

“Do you want it to be?”

You choke on your breath and he laughs like you’ve told the funniest joke in the universe. He’ll kill you one of these days, you’re sure of it.

You charter the ship you usually take on private jobs, the space a little smaller than you remember with another person on board, but it’s not like either of you aren’t used to being in close quarters with each other by now. At least Ezra has the decency not to be mean about the beaten up exterior, she still flies true. He’d grinned at that, told you how a rough outside often means the opposite of the interior mechanics. The glint in his eye is enough to know he’s not just talking about the ship. 

At least the planet is in the same system as the Pug, so there’s no need to punch through to a lane. You fly in silence for a few hours, the familiar feel of the controls under your fingers as you guide it through the sky. Ezra’s eyes remain firmly on you although you pretend as though you don’t notice, and it takes him a moment to come back to the present when you ask him to flick a few switches and prepare to enter the atmosphere. 

The coordinates the client gave you to land are only a short walk from the house itself, a great stone castle-looking thing. It’s kind of ugly, the way the limestone juts out above the treeline. A big white block among the rich reds and oranges of the leaves. They grow that colour all year round, perpetually stuck in spring and summer. It must be nice to have the kind of money to find somewhere like that and decide you’ll build a house there. The air is breathable, and a quick look at the planet file proves it’s never too hot or too cold. A perfect place to build a house really. Although, if it were you making that kind of decision, you’d maybe go for a design that’s a little less cubist. 

The deposit isn’t huge, but it’ll be a good payout nonetheless providing the cells are all in good nick. You and Ezra wade through swathes of long grass and wildflowers until you find a spot to set up camp. At least you’re not stuck in bulky suits and having to lug around your equipment.

You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect dig if you’d tried. Each of the cells sit far enough away from each other that even if one were to fail, it wouldn’t corrupt a whole mess of the others. Although with both of your talents, it doesn’t surprise you when you collect every last crystal without a single misstep.

You’d told Ezra the profit would be split down the middle, equal pay for equal work. But it doesn’t stop him from sliding an extra gem into your pack to cover the ship charter. After all, you’re the one who was offered the job in the first place. He’s just following his heart, the one that walks around outside of his body and throws itself into deposits mid-corruption.

You hold one of the little gems aloft in the sunlight and watch as it sparkles.

“I used to think it was weird how rabid people go for these. But the more I dig the more I get it, isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

Ezra tilts his head like he’s studying the rock, but his dark eyes don’t leave yours.

“It’s a close second.”

Sap.

Night falls before either of you realise just how late it is, clearing out the last few cells of the deposit. It’s not worth going back to the Pug now, he reasons, and you find it hard to disagree. The ache of the few days you’ve spent digging has settled deep in your muscles, the thought of having to run through docking procedure when you’re so tired is enough to make you wince. 

You let him take you for all you’re worth under the watchful eye of the heavens, and find there’s more stars behind your eyelids than you could ever hope to see in the skies. It’s all you can do to cry out the name of the only god to ever make you feel this holy. Ezra. 

He wakes with the sun, the same way he always has on jobs, to find you curled so tightly against him that it bubbles up from his toes all the way to his throat and he finds his eyes threatening to spill over. Everything in the universe seems to slot so perfectly together when you’re like this. Ezra sighs, content to never let the moment end. You are so beautiful.

He shifts up onto his elbow a little, still cradling you against him, and lets his free hand trail softly over your face. Tracing the shell of your ear, the curve of your cheekbone, the bridge of your nose. The dawn’s sunlight breaks over the trees and filters through the fabric of the tent, bathing you in soft green light. He could stay here, holding you, until the universe implodes. Ezra doubts he’d notice such an insignificant thing with you beside him. 

But end it must, and he rouses you gently with soft whispers and kisses against your temple. You stretch in his arms, not unlike Hugo, and sigh as your joints pop and settle. Packing up happens slowly, moving around each other so naturally it’s as though you’ve done it a thousand times before. Every time Ezra passes, you drop a kiss wherever you can reach. His shoulder, the arm of his jacket, that little patch on his jaw. He pretends not to blush when you catch his hand and carefully press your lips to the little tattoo between his thumb and index finger, you pretend not to notice when he does.

You’ll be the death of him, he’s sure of it. The way you keep watching him out of the corner of your eye, the way your smile is so bright when he catches you that he can barely stand to look at it. With the tent and equipment packed up, his fingers itch to thread through your own as you start the walk back to the ship, there’s not a word in the universe strong enough to describe just how much he hates that both his and your hands are too full.

It’s odd, thinking about it. How you met by pure chance, hired by the agency just because you were on the same station at the same time. Would he have ever met you if you’d chosen a different career path, if he had? Maybe somewhere, centuries before or after this moment, where you’re meeting again. Different lives, different times, spanning across all of existence. Maybe, right here and now, you’re starting to feel the way he does about you. Just a little. Maybe he’ll get up the courage to ask what you think, how far you want to take things. He’d give himself to you in a heartbeat, without question. In a way, he already has.

Ezra can’t stop himself.

“What do you make of the red string of fate?”

“All you’ve seen of the universe and you still believe in soulmates?” 

“Maybe I’m more foolish that I made myself out to be.” He shrugs, trying not to let his eyes fall to the little finger of his right hand. Trying not to clench his fist to show you exactly how much your disbelief affects him down to his bones, as though his soul itself is frowning. You’re smiling. Uncharacteristically quiet, but you seem appropriately pleased by his answer and stray a little further out into the long grass.

Curiosity gets the better of you.

“Can you see yours?” You have to call out across the gap you’ve unintentionally created, yellow stalks swishing in the breeze between you, and for a moment you’re not sure he heard.

Ezra looks at his right hand, at the thin red string tied neatly at the knuckle of his little finger, and follows the line as it threads through the grass to where it’s knotted at your left. 

“No.” 

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@bee-dameron @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean @gotta-have-faye​ @freeshavocadoooo​ @darnitdraco​ @greeneyedblondie44​ @fire-is-catching-always

#oh god here it is i hope it lives up to what i've made it out to be #a law divine #prospect (2019) #ezra (prospect) #ezra x reader #ezra x you #liz does words #soulmate au #smut

[marvel-medigeek-fics]

Laundry Day

|| 1.6k || ao3 link ||

 Buck had overslept. Slept straight through his alarms, only to wake up 13 minutes before he needed to be leaving for work. Second time this week and, to matters worse, every single one of his LAFD shirts was balled up in the corner of his room. After pulling on the bottom half of his uniform, he sniffed the balled-up shirts. Rank, rancid, double rank, gag-inducing. The thought of wearing a disgusting smelling shirt made Buck's skin crawl, so he threw on a plain black shirt and hoped for the best. Hopefully, Bobby wouldn't see him before he could pull on an actual LAFD shirt straight from the dryer.

Buck pulled into the station's parking lot 11 and a half minutes later. He wiped a sheen off his temple and hoped Bobby wouldn't notice the stark lack of logo. He made a beeline for the dryer and grabbed one of the shirts from the pile in the basket. He hastily put on the first shirt that smelled like detergent, shoving his black shirt into his bag. Crisis averted.

Upstairs, Eddie, Bobby, Hen, and Chimney were deep in conversation about the "curse" a few days ago. "At least it's not like last time." Hen was saying. "Live power pole on one truck and the other one stolen."

"That was not the fault of the "curse", just an unlucky coincidence. The q word can't jinx you, it's just a word." Eddie shook his head, shoveling hot sauce covered scrambled eggs into his mouth. Chimney and Hen shared a look that said, 'He can not be serious.'

"Mhm. Just a coincidence." Buck raised his eyebrows, bringing the attention of his colleagues to him at the top of the stairs. "You wouldn't be saying that because the curse gave you a reason to ask out Christopher's English teacher or anything, right?" Eddie was smart enough to have his mouth full by the time Buck finished, as to avoid Hen's questioning eyes, Bobby's subtle brow raise, or Chimney's blunt questions.

"Is that why you said you had other plans?" Chimney almost threw his fork on the table in mock outrage. Hen rolled her eyes at Chimney's outburst. Bobby just went back to his eggs. Eddie just nodded and finished off his eggs, wiping the excess hot sauce off his plate with his last forkful.

"Good for you, man. We did save a life, you missed out." Chimney continued, trailing off as Buck moved to get a serving of eggs. No hot sauce, extra salt, extra pepper, extra garlic powder. And cheese. Lots of cheese. By the time Buck turned around, the entire table was staring at him. Their eyes moved from Buck to each other, having an unspoken conversation.

"What?" Buck quirked an eyebrow at their expressions. Bobby had his usual glint in his eyes, Chimney looked like he was about to explode, and Hen looked completely normal. Eddie, on the other hand, was staring a hole into his empty plate. The top of his cheeks were turning crimson, but no one was looking at him.

"Nothing. Eat your eggs." Hen shook her head and changed the subject. She'd seen the looks Buck and Eddie had shared, which were too intimate to be between two people who were "just friends". Also, Buck had a habit of watching Eddie's ass as he walked by him. So did Eddie. 'Watching his back' was their excuse.

--

“5 vehicle accident on South Seneca.” The words echoed over the intercom and every member of the 118 ran for the trucks. The day so far hadn’t been very eventful, and everyone was a little antsy. Squirrely, to be more honest. Eddie squirmed in his seat uneasily and Chim looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. Hen kept giving him knowing and pointed glances. Buck, on the other hand, was raring to go and about catapulted out of the truck as soon as it pulled to a stop.

The scene was messy with news vans, reporters and civilians surrounding the wreckage. The wind wasn’t helping, biting everyone deep. You’d think people wouldn’t be watching a car accident with that kind of weather. Luckily the police were already backing people away, and the 118 and the 223 could get to work extricating people.

In the middle, one car was essentially crushed from 2 sides after running a red light straight into the path of the three oncoming cars, hitting another on its way to a stop. Two of the cars were crumpled like sheets of paper, another was heavily dented by the force of getting t boned. The fourth car was barely scratched, with all the damage of a fender bender. The fifth car in the middle was smashed in both directions, with the passengers side door hit head on and the back seat drivers side in the same condition. The hood was rippled and smoking fervently. It looked awful, but it would still be flooding television stations on the 6 o clock news.

“Buck, Chim, we’ll check on the far side. Hen and Eddie, ditto.” The 118 moved quickly to the far side and immediately everything else was forgotten.

“LAFD, you were in an accident. Are you in any pain?” Buck and Eddie repeated each other, receiving vastly different answers.

“My daughters are in the backseat, Sophie who’s 2 and Marisella who’s just a baby. I’m fine. Check on them.” Said Buck, Chim and Bobby’s driver.

A baby wailed in the backseat, and the other girl, a toddler, was silently staring at these strange men. Buck raced around to the passengers side door, struggling futilely with the handle.

“It’s automatic.” The driver winced, springing Chimney into action to pry off part of the door. The door slid open on the other side and Buck immediately reached in and unbuckled the toddler from her seat. She seemed relatively unhurt, save a few bruises. Buck handed her off to Bobby and crawled to the other side for the baby, wailing profusely. He unbuckled her with the grace of an uncle who had been practicing and carried her against his chest, attempting to protect her from the wind, which was only getting colder.

Chimney was not having as good of luck extricating the father. The seatbelt was cutting a deep scar in his thigh and every time any thing would move blood would trickle out from around the polyester. Chimney very carefully slid a square of gauze under the belt and simultaneously cut the belt from causing more damage. Blood quickly soaked the gauze and Chimney maneuvered another piece to soak up the blood. “Hold this, sir, please. I’m going to place a tourniquet above your hands and you should stop bleeding.”

The fathers face was turning staunch white, and Chimney but his tongue. He’d have to work fast. And he did. 5 minutes later, the father was out on a stretcher.

In the next car, Eddie and Hen were dealing with an irate woman, who kept exclaiming she would be sueing. The driver, the state of California, LA first responders, God knows who else. She seemed unhurt, but was stuck on both sides. Her drivers side door was stuck, though not intruding on her seat. The rear passengers side door was the most realistic plan to get her out. Eddie climbed through that door and Hen attempted to coax her to follow him from her place just behind the drivers door.

“Why can’t you just remove my door?” She protested and both Eddie and Hen had to force themselves not to roll their eyes or snipe back with a comment.

“Even if we did, ma’am, there is still another car blocking us from getting you out.” Hen replied calmly.

“Tow it.”

“We cannot do that until everyone is cleared from the accident scene, ma’am.” Eddie said. “ please just come this way.” He offered his hand. She only relented after a sigh so loud it seemed painful and crawled her way out the door. Not even her blouse had a stain on it.

After she was escorted to the hospital in 331’s ambulance, hen and Eddie shared a look that simply said “some people.”

“I wonder if she’ll sue.” Eddie wondered when the 118 was headed back from the scene to the station.

“I doubt it.” Bobby said somberly. His voice changed slightly for his next statement. “ everyone is stable and south Seneca is open for traffic.”

—

“The 6 car accident on South Seneca that occurred at 4:37 pm involved 0 fatalities and no critical injuries. South Seneca was reopened for full traffic at 6:59 pm.” Pictures cycled the screen, of the cars, the 118s ladder and various other ambulances. Then there was Buck carrying the baby Marisella. The top of his turnout was peeking over his shoulder, protecting the child from the bitter wind. But the most interesting part of the picture was the name plastered on his back.

Diaz.

“Good job, Diaz.” Chimney clapped his hand on A bewildered Bucks shoulder. Both Buck and Eddie were turning red starting from the tips of their ears, and neither of them would live it down.

—

“Were you attempting to grab my shirt or was it just a lucky grab?” Eddie leaned against the door frame at the end of shift and stared at Buck who was pulling on a hoodie.

“In your dreams, Diaz.” Buck rolled his eyes and smiled into the locker, which was not unbeknownst to Eddie.

“Just in yours. Diaz.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Buck turned to see Eddie giving him a smirk. Oh what he wouldn’t give to wipe that smirk off his face.

#buddie fics #Buddie #buck x eddie #911 fanfiction #911

[someguynamedstevewrites]

My Roommate is an Apparition: An Apparition A-Pink-ciation of Culture

Based on characters created by @reddpenn

From the diary of Lily:

------------

When I was little, I used to talk to my stuffed animals all the time.  They were my soft, cuddly friends who were always there for me, and even though they never spoke a word, I always imagined I could hear what they wanted to say.  Even as an adult, I still treat inanimate objects like they’re people too.  In fact, everyone does at some point or another in their adult life.  Anyone who has ever argued with their car that refused to start knows what I mean.

But recently, I realized that sometimes people can do... well the opposite. That sometimes we don’t treat people (who are actual, real people) like they’re people.  It’s not something we consciously think about, but it’s more like we forget that, well, people are people.  I know this sounds really dumb, but I felt like I needed to write about this after a... well after an “argument” I had with my roommate.

I’ve lived with my roommate for a few months now, and I thought I had gotten to know them pretty well.   They like to watch cartoons (like, seriously LOVES them) and we had worked out a TV viewing schedule to make sure that we got along together.  But the other day, I realized that I wasn’t necessarily treating them like they were their own person.  I didn’t mean to do that, but it just kind of happened, and...

...well it gets really complicated because, technically, they aren’t a person.

I mean, they aren’t human; they’re an apparition.

It made me think about all those stories about monsters and ghosts.  Like a ghost used to be human, but then they died, and their spirit became a ghost.  Do we still treat the ghost like the person they were when they were alive?  Outside of a few exceptions, the answer’s a definite yes.

But what about an apparition? It’s kind of like a ghost, but it’s not. I mean, it’s not the soul of someone who died or anything. They just sort of exist. (Would Slimer from Ghostbusters be an apparition or a ghost?).

------------

So anyway, reason I’m bringing this all up is because of what happened last weekend. I was channel surfing through the Cable Guide and as I’m flipping through, I pass by Boomerang (you know, the cable channel that spun-off Cartoon Network to hold all the older cartoons?) and all of a sudden, my roommate appears out of nowhere (literally) and practically grabs the remote out from my hands.

“Hey! What gives!?” I say to them.

They immediately change over to Boomerang and my TV screen is suddenly filled up with the color pink. At the same time, my roommate starts “doot-ing” along with the song and goes, “Doo-Doot! Doo-Doot! Do-Doot-Do-Doot-Do-Doot Do-Doot-De-Dooooooooo-Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo-Doooot”. I have no idea what they’re doing, but then the cartoon starts up and it’s the Pink Panther.

Rhetorically, I go, “What’s this?”

“Pink... Panther...” my roomie says.

And then I make my first mistake by saying, “Huh. Never seen it before.”

Now if I had been paying attention to them, I probably would have seen the face of shock they were making. “You... NEVER... saw it!?” They gasped.

“Nope. Must have been before my time,” which was totally true. I mean, I later found out my Dad used to watch it when he was a kid. It wasn’t on TV when I was growing up. (Why am I defending myself for not watching a specific cartoon?)

Anyway, roomie asks, “Watch... with me?”

And then I, being a total dumbass, say, “Nah. Think I’ll get some dishes in,” before getting up and walking away.

If I had stayed put for just a few seconds longer, I would have heard them asking, “...please?” (In case you’re wondering, they told me about that later.)

------------

Yes, I hurt its feelings.  Yes, it was insensitive.  Yes, I am sorry.  But like I said, the thought didn’t even cross my mind back then.  As far as I knew, as long as my roommate had their cartoons, they were happy.  It didn’t occur to me that they cared about anything other than the cartoons themselves.

For the next week, my roommate made sure I knew, now and forever, that this was not true.

My first clue that they were mad at me was later that evening when I went to the living room to watch my usual shows.   It was my turn on the TV, and usually I have to pry my roommate away so I can watch what I want to watch. But that night, the instant I walked into the room, they changed the channel to what I wanted, put the remote down on the couch, and left the room without saying a word.  I thanked them, plopped myself down, and went straight into couch potato mode.

This should have thrown so many red flags in my head, but for some reason, it didn’t.  Maybe I was being too self-absorbed at the time? Maybe I was just tired and thinking, “Aww man, I gotta work tomorrow!”?  No matter the excuse, mistakes were made, and I started paying for them the very next morning.

My “haunting” kicked off with waking up to find most of my rock collection missing.  I have a particular affinity for pretty rocks and gems (I’m kind of a rock nerd) and have my favorites out on display.  But that morning, the only rocks that I could see were the pink ones.  Someone had pilfered almost every pebble from every pedestal to perturb me.   (I saw a chance for alliteration and took it! So sue me!)  I was still waking up and too tired to care about it at the time (me making excuses again) and had work, so I got ready to go and left.

Now I’m not sure how they did it, but my roommate did something to my car radio.   I turn it on and all I get are tunes by Henry Mancini.  Fifty percent of the time, it was the Pink Panther theme, twenty-five percent was the theme from A Shot In The Dark (I had to use Soundhound to figure out that one), and the rest was a mix of some of his other work.   It didn’t matter what station I tried changing it to!  Although I did learn that Mancini composed Baby Elephant Walk, so that’s something.

By now, I’d already figured out what was going on (roommate did it), but couldn’t really do anything about it because I still had work to go to.   As if the daily grind working at an art supply store wasn’t hard enough, I had to work while having the dang Pink Panther theme stuck in my head all day.  Not even the music that played over the store radio could get rid of it.  (Given the quote un-quote “music” they play over the speaker system, I eventually considered it a good thing.)

Then I came home, and that’s when things REALLY escalated.  First words out of my mouth after I walked in was, “Hey, I’m hoooOOOOOLY~!”  Every single wall in the apartment, from the living room, to the kitchen, to the bedroom, and even the bathroom...

PINK!

All of them were painted PINK!

Like strawberry frosted doughnut pink!

As I’m gawking at the interior design sugar rush nightmare, out walks my roommate from around the corner.  Immediately, the first thing I noticed was that they had feet. (Normally, they don’t have feet; they just kind of “hover” or “emerge from the ground” or something.) They had their eyes closed, head held up, and made a point of showing off these noodle legs they had constructed by skipping every other three steps.

They were doing the Pink Panther shuffle.

They walk out of my line of sight and I run over to have a word with them, but by then they disappeared.  I look around and all I see is more and more pink.  From behind me, I hear a mix of snickering slash wheezing.  Like you ever hear of this cartoon dog named Muttley?  They were laughing like him.  And of course, I turn around, and the only thing I see is more pink!

------------

I knew that my roommate could be ornery at times, like that time I tried to get an idea of their daily routine by setting up a webcam, but this...

I mean, where did she even get the paint?  (Upon reading back here, I realized I referred to them as a ‘she’ even though I’m not sure if they are a ‘she’ or not.  Yeah, I can edit it to a more neutral pronoun, but something tells me I ought to point this out instead of editing it, for some reason.)

I was half tempted to get back at them by painting the walls back to their original color (they do sell paint by the gallon where I work, and I get the employee discount), but realized they’d just paint(?) the walls pink again.  Like I’d turn around after thinking I finished only to find the work I did completely undone.  I could just picture my roommate doing that and finding it hysterical.

Anyway, tacky as the pink walls were, I didn’t get too angry about them.  For starters, my lease agreement said that I couldn’t paint the walls without landlord approval.  But my lease agreement also acknowledges that my apartment may be haunted.  If the landlord ever brought it up, I’d just tell them the “ghost” did it.  Second, these pranks my roommate was pulling were kind of amusing and didn’t really bother me that much.  (I mean sure, I wanted my rock collection back but I doubted my roommate would have thrown them away.  They know how much they mean to me.)

The one thing I was putting my foot down on was that I wasn’t going to ask my roommate what was wrong.  I got the hint, sure, but I wanted them to know that if something is bothering them, they need to, y’know, actually say something instead of leaving spooky pink clues.  They were being a butt, and my hope was that when they saw how much the pink wasn’t bothering me, then they’d finally open up.  This went on for about a week with me going about my daily routine only to be surprised by the occasional pink interruption.

Like on Wednesday, I go to the fridge to get something to drink, and all I find in there is Pink Lemonade.  It actually wasn’t that bad, but I have no idea how my roommate actually got it given that they never leave the apartment.  Thursday, I get a notification saying a package arrived, and find my roommate used my debit card to order the entire Pink Panther cartoon series on DVD.  And earlier on Tuesday, I got a call from my landlord asking if I knew why someone had called in an order, in their name, to have Owens Corning insulation installed.  In case you weren’t aware, that’s the pink insulation who has “you can guess who” as their mascot.

------------

So, Friday rolls around, and by now, the entire apartment is pink.  Like EVERYTHING.  The furniture, the electronics, the toilet, the sink, the appliances, the TV, and everything in between has been made pink somehow.  I’m not sure who out there still makes pink toilet paper, but apparently my roommate has either some special powers I don’t know about yet, or they got connections.

At this point, since my roommate had yet to approach me about “The Pink-ening”, I began playing the reverse-psychology card.  I came home and got to making dinner.  While some of this was a bit more expensive than what I usually spend on food, I figured it was worth it if it meant getting my roommate to talk to me.  My menu included delicious smoked pink salmon, some crab linguine with a nice amount of pink to it for a side dish, and some mashed red potatoes that turn out nice and pink if you got the right recipe.  To wash it down, I picked up a glass of pink lemonade from the fridge, and in the freezer, some strawberry sorbet.

I get down to eating at my pink table, with a pink wooden chair, pink napkins, pink silverware, pink glass of pink lemonade.  It took a little more effort to put this together, but I made an exaggerated point of showing off how good this pink meal was and how much I was just enjoying all this pink.

About halfway into my meal, I get a feeling that someone’s standing behind me.  It’s hard to put into words how you know someone’s there especially since my roommate doesn’t really eat or breath.  It’s like the hairs on the back of your neck become sensitive like cat whiskers and can just... feel that someone’s there.  Usually sends a chill down my spine when that happens, but this time, I was ready and waiting for it.

“Care to join me for dinner?” I say without turning around.  If I had, they probably would have vanished on me again like they had been doing all week.

“Looks... good...” they say in their ever so familiar by now raspy voice.

“Got something you want to talk about?” I ask between bites.  There’s a brief pause as my roommate thinks to themselves.

“...yes,” they finally answer.

“Okay.  Pull up a chair!  It’s been a while since we just, y’know, talked and stuff,” which was true.  

The instant I said that, I realized that even before the “week of pink” began, we hadn’t spent a whole lot of time together outside of our usual TV time.  I had long since figured out that my roommate wanted me to watch Pink Panther with them, but I just thought they wanted to show it to me to show off how (subjectively) good the cartoon was.  Only then did it hit me that they wanted me to watch it with them because they wanted to watch it together with me.  It was like they were hoping for some roommate bonding time or something like that.

Now, it wasn’t like we weren’t talking to each other before this.  I greeted them whenever I saw them, and let them know whenever I came home or was leaving. but we hadn’t actually talked, like... “talk-talk” in a few weeks.  Instead, the conversations over the last few weeks were like the kind of conversations a person would have with their pet cat or pet dog.  Like you’d talk to them, but not really expect an answer from them.

I had been treating her like a pet more than a person.  (Did it again!  I’m thinking I’ll ask them later what kind of pronouns they’d like me to use, or if they’ve even given any thought towards gender or anything).

My guess is that my roommate picked up on this themselves, and just like a disobedient pet who is bored, lonely, or other, they made a mess of the place.  Maybe they were thinking that if I was going to treat them like a pet, they would act like one too?

Of course, I didn’t mean to treat them like that.  I don’t think anyone really does mean it when they do.  It just kind of happens without thinking about it.  The whole reason I’m writing this down here in you, diary, is so that I can make a mental note slash reminder to be careful of doing that kind of thing.  It’s especially important to remember when interacting with other people, like my co-workers or the store customers.  (Unlike my roommate, they can’t get on my case by making my entire apartment pink.)

------------

Now where was I?  Oh yeah, our talk.  I think I remember the most important bits of it.  It went something like:

“So, whaddya wanna talk about?” I ask between bites of food.

“Pink...” they say to me.  I wait a moment, expecting them to say “panther” after that, but it when it doesn’t arrive, I step in.

“Yeah!  Pretty amazing what you did with the place!  I didn’t know things could even get this pink!” which was one-hundred percent true.

“...Thank...you...” they say with a smile.  I can tell that was not the answer they were expecting as I could have swore they turned and blushed.  Although I couldn’t tell because of how pink everything else was.

“Although,” I add, “I don’t think the landlord is going to like the apartment being this pink.  If it stays like this, they might kick me out.  And we wouldn’t want that, right?”

Now my roommate, the apparition, actually looks shocked for a moment.  The thought hadn’t entered their head, and for a moment, they looked a little scared.  “N-n-n-no...” they stuttered.

“Well, I’m sure together, we can get this place back to the way it was before the next time they have an apartment inspection.  Whenever that is,” I reassure them.

“Yeah...” my roommate nods.

“Say I got some time off this upcoming weekend.  Want to watch some Pink Panther with me?”  (Oh my God, you should have seen the smile on my roommate’s face when I asked this.)  “I see I have the DVD collection now, apparently,” I say with a wink, “and we can even watch the movies together too.”

“...movies?” they ask.

“Yeah, the Pink Panther was a movie first before it became a cartoon.  It was a live-action movie, but... well some of it’s like a cartoon here and there.  Lots of slapstick comedy that I think you might like.”  They were practically beaming and agreed immediately.  

After Friday’s dinner, we watched some of the cartoons (which are actually pretty funny) and for the upcoming weekend, we’re doing a Pink Panther movie marathon with cartoons mixed in to spice it up.  I also found out that my roommate doesn’t just watch the cartoons, but actually knows a thing or two about them.  Like how Friz Freleng, one of the directors and creative minds behind the original Looney Tunes cartoons, was involved in the Pink Panther’s creation along with a new studio after he left Warner Brothers.  I don’t know how my roommate came to know so much, but it’s pretty cool.

Anyway, I got me some sweet, pink treats to snack on during the movie marathon.  The apartment is still pink as can be, but my roommate said they’ll take care of it once the marathon’s over.  Exactly HOW they plan to take care of it, I have no idea.  Oh well.  No use pinking too hard about it.

(HA!)

#my roommate is an apparition #Tulpa #fanfiction #reddpenn #Pink Panther

[wendystales]

Memories - lrh (Chapter Six)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Five ※※※※※ Chapter Seven

“Problems in the fairy world: After almost two years, Luke Hemmings and Marnie McGonagall break up”

“The lovely couple of 2020, the model Marnie McGonagall and the singer Luke Hemmings, break up after almost two years of relationship”

“Shaken structure : After an accident and amnesia, Marnie McGonagall and Luke Hemmings puts an end to the relationship for a year and a half ”

After a week in peace and serenity, or something like that, my second one started with the internet breaking at the end of my relationship with Luke.

All the tabloids, renowned newspaper sites, gossip sites. All social networks. All radio stations. Everyone was commenting on.

All articles were based on “someone close to the couple”. Who? I have no idea, since after a slight spurt of distrust, I realized that none of my friends would do that. According to Noah, this was just the media playing, hoping to see if Luke or I would take the bait.

With my good leg beating at a fast pace, signaling my nervousness, I keep staring at the TV in silence, while Noah paces behind me, trying to control everything. The doorbell rings and I watch him go to answer. When Luke comes into view, I get up quickly and walk over to him, hugging him.

I close my eyes, feeling safer. I don't know how to deal with half the Los Angeles media behind me for a statement, or expecting a slip-up to attack me. I release all the air trapped in my lungs, in no hurry to break that hug.

“Are you okay?” he whispers and I just shake my head as if it was okay, or something close to it. “Great, that's what matters.” he leaves a kiss on my shoulder, before letting go and greeting Noah right.

“What's the order?” I see my friend question.

“The usual. They don't want me to say anything, but I won't be quiet while they attack her. I never stayed and it is not now that I will.” Luke replies, decided.

“Are they attacking me?” I ask approaching the two, who look at me without knowing what to say.

Since the headlines came out, Noah planted a lookout here at home, because he is the one who woke me up, and since then he hasn't let me see anything, just the TV and the mute yet. I knew he was protecting me, but I didn't know what.

The two look at each other and Luke approaches me again, sitting on the couch. As he tries to find a million ways to start, I interrupt him.

“Why do I feel like we already had this conversation?” I ask suspiciously.

“Because we already did, before we tell the media.” he scratches the back of his neck.

Once again, before he starts, Noah's cell phone rings and he leaves, leaving us alone.

“So?” I incentive to continue.

“There are a group of people, who like the band, but don't like our relationship and well …”

“They attack me.” I say, shortening for him. Luke states awkwardly. “How and why?” I don't know if I really want to know, but I know I need to.

Luke scratches his forehead. I feel bad for having to pass it on or go over it.

“They say bad things about you, about your job, about us. But nothing, nothing, is true.” Luke stresses "nothing" already knowing that most likely I would have that in my head. “Look, no matter what we do, there will always be people wanting to get in the middle and think they know more than the two of us, so just ignore it. Let them talk to themselves, they stop and go on to another topic. OK?” his face lowers, trying to meet my eyes, which were focusing on the pillow between us.

“OK!” I look at him with a weak smile. Luke gives a weak smile too, before giving me a kiss on the forehead and going after Noah to post his text.

In his tweets, Luke explains what happened between the two of us. He tells about my amnesia and how we both talked, and together, we decided to take a break, until I got used to my life or until I remembered everything. In the sequence, he also made clear all the affection and respect that we still had for each other. In addition to pulling the ear of whoever was attacking me or blaming me.

I don't know where it would be my fault. After all, I am the victim. Not to mention that none of this would be happening if it weren't for the accident. I would probably still be with Luke, together and happy.

I stare at the rug, hoping and praying for some memory to come, but my brain ignores me. I sigh, sinking into the couch. I look at the balcony, seeing the two talking. Luke is too perfect, it is not possible. I wouldn't have all that maturity.

This is not just maturity ...

I close my eyes, trying to silence my conscience. I know what it was, but not talking or thinking makes it seem like it’s not real.

Who am I kidding?!

Soon Luke's tweets were on TV, with several photos and videos of appearances, and everyone was commenting. Apparently the text was well accepted by the media, which changed the focus of the relationship a little and went back to talking about my accident. I hold my breath when the accident video is played again. I get up calling the attention of the two, who return to the living room and turn off the TV.

“Are you OK?” Noah asks attentively. I just nod.

“I need to go. I'm sure someone will show up at the studio to discuss with me. Later I try to stop by or call you.” Luke warns, coming towards me.

I hug him again, feeling safe. I apologize for getting him into this mess.

“It is not your fault and what matters is your well-being. And remember.” he holds my face, making me look into his blue eyes. “Nothing they say about you is true, don't let that take your head. I'll call you later.” he kisses me on the forehead and leaves.

“Oh, it is so difficult to see you like this and know that you are not together.” I turn to Noah, who is sitting on the sofa, looking at me in pain. I throw a pillow over his face and sit back down next to him.

“Believe me, I know.” I watch one more picture of us on the screen. “We are a beautiful couple.” I give a sad smile.

“Are?” Noah comments with a hopeful smile. “Can I start to ship again and create expectations?” he nudges me.

“First of all, did you ever stop to ship and create expectations?” Noah gives a weird smile. “Second, even if you haven't stopped, no. Despite everything, I still don't feel anything for Luke.” I sigh.

Perhaps "nothing" was a very strong word. I have affection and gratitude, but that I also have for Noah, Kyleen, Mike, Ashton, Calum and Leah, that is, it didn't mean much. What I needed was not there yet. However, I still hope to happen.

[...]

“Doesn't he look beautiful dressed like that? You have to see when he uses the overalls.” Calum sits next to me, provoking Ashton who was sitting on the floor, moving in his garden.

“Old Ashton had a farm, ieieo.” I humming with Calum, continuing the provocation.

I take the water bottle from Calum's hand, watching Ash dressed in faded jeans, a dirty T-shirt and a wide straw hat. I give a short laugh, watching Ashton glare at Calum. Apparently, his hobby in gardening was pretty funny.

“I already know what to give you on your birthday.” I get on the joke with Calum.

“You already gave that.” the two talk together, scaring me.

I look at them both with wide eyes as they laugh. This is already getting boring, it seems that everyone has some advantage over me. I see the idea of ​​the garden kit for kids going down the drain. I didn't know what to give, now then.

“Then I will need your help with this.” I whisper to Calum, who just nods.

“So, you stopped when Luke left.” Ash reminds me.

After yesterday, with my name and Luke's in everyone's mouth, today I didn't want to stay at home, I needed to relax, so the two ladies went to pick me up to spend the afternoon here at Ashton's house with them. Especially because they wanted to know how I was doing and I wanted to hear from Luke.

“Well, everything was fine. Everything calmed down, as far as possible, until the intercom rang.” I give a discredited laugh, remembering yesterday. “When Stephen appeared at the door of my building.”

The two looked at me in astonishment.

“You're kidding, right?” Ashton even got up, approaching me.

“Go for me, I would like a lot, but no. He knew about Luke and me and wanted to try the chance. Little does he know that I already know everything.” I comment the last part quietly, not wanting to focus on that.

“This guy is unbelievable. How does he have that courage?!” Calum comments outraged.

“Did you tell Luke?” Ashton asks, after walking around as outraged as Cal.

“No and I don't know if I'm going to tell.” they look at me alarmed. “I don't want Luke to feel like he has to have any responsibility to keep Stephen from me and I know he will.” I confirm my theory when Cal shakes his head, agreeing with me. “Nothing happened either, Noah went down and ran him, it was just an isolated case.” I shrug.

I didn't expect Stephen to show up, not after the hospital, however, if he ever had the courage to show up for the first time after everything I experienced (according to my diary), the hospital misunderstanding was nothing for him.

I can't hide that I was very tempted to go down and break my cast on his head, but Noah was quicker, locking me at home and going in my place. According to him, now was not the time for an aggression scandal. Do what?! He's right.

“I understand you, my love, but as a friend, I advise you to tell.” Ash sits next to me. “This will end up getting to him, like it or not, so it better be for you.”

“Yeah, no need to go into details, but tell him.” Hood reinforces.

“I don't know if Parker's party is an appropriate place, but it may be easier to relax afterwards.” Ashton shrugs, wanting to help.

“Ah, I heard about this party. He's Noah's fling, isn't he?”

“Don't let Noah hear that.” Calum laughs, catching my attention.

But it was Leah who told me about them.

“Noah and Parker resemble you and Hemmo very much at the beginning. Everyone knows something is going to happen, but you guys play hard to get”. Ashton explains. I open my mouth to defend myself, but according to my diary, that was it.

I don't help myself.

“Well, regardless of his status, I won't.” the two look at me surprised and upset. “ I'm not ready for parties yet, sorry, but I don't want to sit all night on the couch without being able to dance or having to drag it up and down.” I point to the orthopedic boot on my foot, irritated by that thing.

“But what are you going to do over the weekend then?’ Cal asks.

“You will laugh and judge me.” I answer with a pout. I may not know them well enough, but enough to understand what they are like.

“Calum quite capable, but I don't.” Calum opens his arms, visibly offended by Ash's comment, making me laugh. “You laugh at that fall of Mike in the London show until today and it has more than seven years.”

It was Ashton talking about this show that Hood started to laugh, agreeing that he was the most likely to laugh at me.

“I still have the video.” he comments after a sigh, stopping laughing.

“Tell me.” my friend asks me, turning my attention to him.

“ I'm going to throw myself on my couch, with a lot of junk food and watch makeover programs and maybe some movies. This is going to be my weekend.” I tell after a sigh.

“This is so depressing that I can't even laugh.” Calum says shaking his head in denial. I look at him indignantly. Come on?! It's not so bad.

“Really, M&Ms? Is this going to be your weekend? On the couch clogging up with food?” Ashton is more indignant than I am with Cal.

“ I'm not in the mood, I'm sorry. But don't worry, Kyleen told me about your birthday party and I will, I swear.” I raise my right hand, as if I were in court.

“You are not even crazy to consider not going. I bring you by the boot.” he counters by returning to the vase he was stirring before.

“Was he always that delicate?” I ask Calum, who spits half the water.

“Oh, Marnie, you need to spend more time with us.” he pats my knee, like an old man telling about his childhood.

“Well, changing the subject a little, and Luke, how is he?” Ashton and Calum look at each other to get my attention.

“He's taking it. He has been busy with some compositions, he has lived in the studio.” Calum replies, going around the mouth of the bottle with his finger.

I look at Ashton, who was still thoughtful. Luke is probably not as well as they try to pass me, or something else is going on.

“He'll be fine!” Irwin reinforces, trying to keep me calm.

I decide not to poke the situation anymore and focus my thoughts on the conversation we were having when I arrived, which was to recall some more facts from the last few years.

“Wait, and you got stuck in the room? And the girl is gone?” I question Calum, very lost in the whole story of how he met Kyleen.

“Yes, the girl locked me there and I don't know where she went, but Kyleen came and released me.” he explains.

“You need to find more normal girls, seriously, you have a serious problem in choosing someone.” I tell them. Serious! Emery, this girl now, my God, what a rotten picker.

“After that we went out a few times and she became part of the team. Shortly thereafter, we met Noah and Leah. That's been six years. Something around there.” Cal finishes.

“Went out?” I widen my eyes. “Have you and Kyleen ever had an affair?” I approached him, shocked, seeing him nod. “ Oh my God!”

“ It's really fun to tell her things, isn't it?” Ash laughs, seeing my reaction.

“Yes, but it came to nothing, it was more fun and in the end, it started to get weird. So, we decided to just be friends.” Hood responds. Once again, I look at Ash with my mouth open, making him laugh.

“She didn't tell me that. What a bitch.” I lean against the wall, indignant.

After the fun afternoon with Tweedledee and Tweedledum, Calum took me home, since today I was having dinner with my father and Meredith for the first time.

“Anything call me, okay?” Hood speaks before saying goodbye. “Especially if Meredith brings that peach pie with homemade whipped cream.” I watch with wide eyes, he close his eyes dreaming of the pie. “I can even taste it.” he finally sighs.

“Do you want me to keep a piece?” he quickly nods, smiling. “Okay, bye, Cal. Thanks!”

I get out of the car laughing. I couldn't ask for better friends.

I keep imagining a million scenarios while I get ready and wait for them to arrive. I know that Meredith and I know each other and get along, but that doesn't stop my anxiety from attacking.

The doorbell rings and I almost cry, regretting not having canceled before. I open the door to find Meredith fixing the collar of my father's shirt, which held the so famous pie. I watch the woman with medium dark hair and a long jumpsuit, opening a warm smile. My father steps forward and gives me a hug.

“How are you?” he analyzes me.

“Well, every day better.” I give a nervous smile. Then the time came. “Hey!” I open my smile a little more to receive Meredith.

She takes a step towards me, shy and extends her hand. I squeeze willingly and give passage to the two of them. We sat at the table and stared at each other for a few seconds, until I realized that I didn't put the dish on the table.

“Sorry.” I mention getting up, but my father takes the lead.

I understand that he wants to help, but being alone with Meredith, even for two seconds, was still not comfortable.

“So …” I start. “I saw that you are going to publish a second book.”

“Ah yes yes. Next week, I can't wait.” she responds excitedly.

Her first book was about toxic relationships and to my amazement, I helped out on some points. The second book would be about the new beginning, the emotional and financial freedom of women. She was not a Jane Austen, because the genres are different, but she is well known.

“I know I'm suspicious to talk, but it looks incredible. Your mother read and loved it.” my father comments the last part in a natural way. However, Meredith notes that I was a little uncomfortable and changed the subject.

I discreetly thanks. My parents' divorce and their friendship is something that I am still absorbing. I accept, but I am learning to cope.

We started talking about my father's trip to Japan and how he fumbled over there. It didn't take long for me to get comfortable with Meredith over there, she's as funny as my dad and very kind.

Meredith must be my mother's age, but she has an energy that makes her look much younger. She wears colorful clothes, always has a huge smile on her face and a contagious laugh. It is good to be close to her. I discover that her first husband was her high school boyfriend, but unfortunately he died of cancer.

Then she started dating an organic food store owner, but he was not a nice guy. It was from this relationship that the first book came out. I admire the courage and strength she had to put an end to it. In return, she had Kendall and Samantha, who look adorable.

“Ah, before I forget.” She takes some papers out of her bag. “The twins made some drawings for you.”

I open those papers with a huge smile. The paintings contained various hearts, flowers, Petunia in various forms and even their self-portrait with me. Everyone wished me well and said that I was the best sister in the world.

“I do not even know what to say.” I am touched. I always wanted to have siblings and since I knew them both, the desire to meet them only increases. The only issue is the fear that they won't like me.

“They are dying to see you, but we said they need to wait for you to be ready. I know there is still a lot to assimilate and absorb.” Meredith says calmly. I am grateful that they do not press anything.

But like everything, I needed to face this. Being afraid of two five-year-olds is not going to help at all. In fact, it will only make me miss them more.

“Yes, you commented on the interview that Meredith will give on the afternoon program, on Wednesday. If they want, I can take care of them.” I suggest nervous, after all, I have amnesia, a broken arm and a leg in the orthopedic boot. I don't know if I'm reliable.

They both look at each other and shrug. For them, I wouldn't have the slightest problem, and certainly not for the children. So it was agreed, Wednesday, I would find my brothers, and may God help me.

“Who's up for pie?” Meredith opens that smile again.

I end up laughing again, remembering Calum earlier. I send a photo of my plate to him, who responds with crying emojis and a huge audio, begging to keep his piece.

#5 seconds of summer #5sos #5sos blurbs #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos smut #ashton irwin #ashton fletcher irwin #afi #ashton 5sos #calum hood #calum thomas hood #cth #calum 5sos #michael clifford #michael gordon clifford #mgc #michael 5sos #luke hemmings #luke robert hemmings #lrh #luke 5sos #lukey #luke hemming imagines #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings blurb #luke hemmings one shot #luke hemmings smut #luke hemmings fluff #fanfiction

[thecindy]

Three a.m.

Izuku and Gran Torino have a talk

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1,322 

Ao3

This does contain manga spoilers for chapter 306, and it alludes to some of what happens in previous chapters.

__________________

Izuku hates three a.m.

Three a.m. meant he was either up too late or awoken too early. He spent most of his life avoiding three a.m. in a desperate attempt to maintain a decent sleep schedule. But at this moment, three a.m. was the ideal time for what he was about to do.

He had been in this hospital long enough to know the shift rotation by heart. He knew when the nurses and doctors did their rounds. He knew when housekeeping would mop the floors. He knew when the kind night shift nurse with golden hair and silver eyes would poke her head into his room to make sure he was sleeping. But most importantly, he knew when the nurses station on the way to the stairwell that exited into the parking garage would be vacant.

Tomorrow he was scheduled to be discharged and escorted back to UA to be with the rest of his class and his mother. His injuries now fully healed, he was expected to return to school and begin his second year as a hero student. But Izuku had decided weeks ago, the moment he woke up after his time with the predecessors, that he wouldn't be going back to UA. It wasn't safe. With the target on his back and with Shigaraki's - All For One's? - use of Ragdoll's search quirk, he would bring nothing but more fighting, more pain, and more death upon his friends, his classmates, his teachers... his family.

So tonight was the night. His last chance to save everyone he cared about from his own fate. He refused to let anyone else get hurt because of his cursed quirk. Truthfully, he had planned and had been ready to go several days ago, but the idea of a few more nights in a soft bed, and a few more hot meals had been far too tempting.

Izuku was alone tonight which made his plan a lot simpler. His mother had gone home to finish packing for the move to UA, and Izuku had insisted All Might - who had spent many a restless night in an uncomfortable hospital chair keeping watch over his successor - go sleep in his own bed with assurances that he would be alright on his own and that he would see him tomorrow. Izuku doesn't remember when he became so good at lying, the thought unsettled him a little bit. It hurt to deceive his mentor like this but he knew it was the only way.

Now or never.

Just after three a.m., like clockwork, he hears the door to his room slide open. He's careful to keep his eyes closed and his breathing even so as not to raise suspicion. Satisfied that he's alright and asleep the nurse slides the door closed again.

Izuku counts to 60 and as quietly as he can he slips out of bed. Under the flimsy hospital pajamas he's already wearing the clothes his mother brought for him to wear upon discharge - a soft t-shirt and pair of basketball shorts. Using a small percentage of One For All he rips off the hospital bracelet just in case it's the kind that could set off alarms, and knowing the security in this place that's pretty likely. After neatly folding his pajamas and leaving a thank you note to the hospital staff he slings his backpack over his shoulder and steps into the empty hall, normally bright lights dimmed for the night.

Left down the hall, one left and then a right and he'll reach the stairwell, which hopefully is kept unlocked from the inside, he hasn’t had a chance to check. He's memorized the floorplan on this level after his many circuits walking around it as part of his physical therapy.

He makes it past the empty nurses station and the left turn when he stops to check the patient name on a door. So Gran Torino hasn't been discharged yet. Izuku feels a lump form in his throat as the guilt washes over him. He knows it’s his fault so many people got hurt, one of them being All Might's teacher - his own teacher.

Noting that the lights are off in the room he slides the door open and quietly steps inside. He unbuckles his backpack and pulls out the letter on top addressed to the man who first helped him reign in the power of One For All. As silently as possible he pads over to the bedside table and gently places the letter next to a vase of wilted flowers.

He is across the room with his hand on the door handle when a voice cuts through the silence. "I ain't gonna read that shit. If you got somethin to say, say it to my face."

Izuku winces and turns to face the small man now sitting up in bed. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were awake. It's late."

"Yeah, well, when you get to be my age and you spend enough time in one of these germ factories you start to realize time is pretty meaningless."

"I see." Izuku swallows around the lump in his throat and grips the straps of his backpack tight. While any outward injury on Gran Torino's body seems to have been healed, he can't help but notice the dark circles below his usually masked eyes. And has he gotten even smaller?

"So what's in the envelope kid?" Gran Torino gestures toward the bedside table. "Ain't trying to poison me are ya? Get rid of me for good?"

"What! No!" Izuku cringes at the unintentional volume of his outburst. Then quieter, "it's just a letter. What normal people put in envelopes."

"When have we ever been normal people, eh?"

He allows himself a small laugh, "You got me there."

"Then why are you sneaking around a hospital in the middle of the night leaving letters for old men?" Gran Torino prodded.

Izuku is silent for a moment as he stares at his shoes. Setting his brow he raises his head to meet the older man's eyes. "I think you know why."

Gran Torino continues to meet his gaze before sighing deeply and dragging a large palm down his face. "This is the part where I'm supposed to talk you out of whatever half-baked, hair-brained, nonsense idea you got in that thick skull of yours."

"I have to go, Gran." Izuku could now feel tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. "I can't let anyone else get hurt because of me."

"I know you think you have to do this, and we both know I'm not exactly in a state where I can stop you, but there are other ways, kid. You don't have to do this alone."

Gran Torino's words hang heavy in the quiet hospital air. "I'm sorry," Izuku says after a beat. "I'm sorry but I do."

"If you decide to come to your senses you know where to find me." Gran Torino sighs again.

Tears are falling now. "Thank you, Gran Torino." the green haired boy manages to choke out. "Thank you for everything. Thank you for showing me how to make this quirk my own."

Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, afraid Gran Torino really will find a way to talk him out of it, Izuku makes for the door again.

"Hey kid."

Izuku turns back just in time to catch the ball of cloth being tossed at him.

"Who are you?"

In his arms Izuku finds a familiar tattered yellow cowl. He clutches the garment to his chest and tries to convey every emotion he feels, every ounce of conviction he has in his voice, "I'm the hero who is going to save everyone."

__________________

With a final bow to his mentor, Izuku steps out into the empty hospital hallway. Unnoticed,

he finds his way to the - thankfully unlocked - stairwell and disappears into the night.

Notes:

This was very self-indulgent. I saw Izuku with Gran's cape and my brain filled in the rest for me.

Not beta'd, so if you see any mistakes or typos please gently let me know so I can fix them 😅

Also I never know how to tag fics, so also let me know tag suggestions or any tw/cw tags I should add.

Thanks for reading!

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #izuku midoriya #gran torino #deku #midoriya izuku #torino sorahiko #sorahiko torino #cindy writes #bnha chapter 306 spoilers

[theseshipsshallsail]

There’s a new club in the Village - Infinity emblazoned in bright, neon letters - and naturally, the building is jam-packed with society’s outcasts on its opening weekend. Oliver grimaces, pressing his third beer to the side of his face, yet the condensation does nothing to soothe his overheated skin. It’s like a furnace of writhing bodies, and with every bead of sweat that bisects his neck to soak into his collar, he can’t help but wonder why he ever agreed to come in the first place.  

“Drink up,” Vanessa says, brandishing a bright amber concoction as she slides into the booth opposite him. “You look like you need something a little stronger.”  

Oliver raises an eyebrow as he returns the bottle to the table, then plucks the wedge of orange peel from the rim of the proffered glass. It’s been three years since he tasted a negroni, and the potent combination of gin, Campari, and vermouth sends his mind reeling in directions he usually fights tooth and nail to avoid. 

“Remind me again why you brought me here?” he asks, trying not to wince at the bitter aftertaste. “This isn’t exactly my scene.”

Vanessa scoffs. “Well, if you ever left your study...”

“I’m up for promotion!”

“You’ll be up for an ulcer if you don’t slow down. Besides, you deserve to let loose after... you know.”

You know, meaning his divorce, and the eighteen month shit-storm that preceded it.

Vanessa has the office next to his, and in between general grousing about University politics they’ve become close friends. It helps, of course, that she understands his situation all too well, and even though her parents never tried to strong-arm her to the altar, she and her girlfriend still have to hide their relationship from the rest of their colleagues.

Oliver sighs as he takes a second sip of his drink. “It’ll take more than a one night stand to loosen me up,” he tells her, and the filthy smirk that curls Vanessa’s lips has him tempted to bang his forehead against the table.

“Whatever tickles your pickle, Professor.”

“Why do I put up with you?”

“Hell if I know.” Slurring somewhat, she taps their cocktails together, and Oliver laughs as she leans forward, poking him in the chest. “Listen, Ollie, you and Micol did a spectacular job of making yourselves miserable, but at least you stayed faithful ‘til the end. Why not enjoy yourself, yeah?” 

“Why not indeed?” 

He’s aiming for sarcastic, yet his tone falls somewhere short of exhausted. She’s right, he realises, but Oliver hasn’t had much interest in men or women for a while. He’s not so deep in denial to admit his heart still belongs to another, and being hopelessly in love with someone he can’t have has done a real number on his libido.

“Damn! This place is heaving!” Simone says, slumping in her seat when she returns from the bathroom. Slinging an arm around Vanessa’s shoulder she drops a quick kiss to her cheek, and Oliver averts his eyes, the casual intimacy leaving him yearning for the impossible. “A few too many student-types for my liking, though. Makes me feel like I’m back in the theatre department.”

“Makes me feel like I’m pushing thirty,” Oliver mutters, painfully aware of the significantly younger crowd as he tugs at the cheap material of his shirt. Too many curries and not enough exercise has made him self-conscious of the few extra pounds at his waistline, and depressingly, twenty-eight feels ancient in comparison. 

“You wanna call it a night?” Vanessa asks, and Oliver nods absently as his gaze catches on a couple in the middle of the dancefloor. 

Caught in a world of their own, they make a striking picture. The taller of the pair is bleached-blond and athletic, his arms wrapped tightly around the slim waist of the man in front of him in a surprisingly protective gesture. Oliver can’t see his partner clearly from this angle, but his skin is pale and shimmering as they move to the beat, dark curls falling in a tousled mess. Whether it’s by artful design or sweat-damp from dancing, he can’t quite tell, yet Oliver is hypnotized by the way they bounce as he loses himself to the music, obscuring his vision until the other man reaches forward, gently brushing them away.  

The bass pounds in his rib cage, and Oliver’s throat feels constricted as he watches the brunette link his hands behind his lover's neck. Profile half in shadows, he raises up on tiptoes to whisper in the shell of his ear, and Oliver experiences a crisis of tenderness when he butts their temples together. Something squirms in his stomach. Something raw and envious. Memories flare, unfair and brutal, and he immediately blames the burning of his retinas on the relentless assault of the strobe lights surrounding them. 

“Oliver? You okay?”

No. 

Definitely not.

The jostling crowd causes the blond to alter their position, and Oliver’s head spins from more than just the alcohol as his blood runs cold in his veins. 

“Elio…” he murmurs, vaguely aware of Vanessa’s stifled gasp when she tries to get a better look.

“Your Elio?”

He wants it not to be - wants his eyes to be deceiving him - yet there’s no denying the truth. All that he’s forgotten - all that he’s clung to - coalesces in a rush of unslaked longing, and between one blink and the next, Oliver remembers everything. 

“Not anymore,” he whispers, but then, why would he be? 

Elio was seventeen when they first met, and Oliver isn’t naive enough to think he hasn’t fallen in and out of love many times since then. He’s beautiful, intelligent, talented beyond measure. Was he really so arrogant to imagine he would still be single? Pining for him, maybe? Saving himself? And for what? A six week romance one too-hot Italian summer? Something his cowardice cut short with a long-distance phone call?

He was, wasn’t he?

Arrogant. 

And so very stupid.

“Of all the gay bars in all the world…” Vanessa takes a swig of her piña colada as he continues to spiral. “I thought you said he lived in Italy?” 

“He did,” Oliver replies, picking at his thumbnail. “He moved here for school.”

“And you didn't contact him?”

“To say what?” His ears ring from the shrillness of her tone. “Hey, Elio. Remember that time I broke both our hearts ‘cause I’m a gutless schmuck? How about I buy you a coffee to make up for it?”

“It would’ve been a start.”

“It would’ve been selfish,” he says, tearing his eyes away. “He has enough on his plate with Juilliard. I’d only get in the  -”

“Juilliard?” Simone’s low whistle interrupts his self-reproach. “Impressive.”

“Son of a professor,” Oliver explains. “I always knew he was a genius.” He gathers himself with a quiet huff. “Though he’ll probably say he knows nothing.” The spark of nostalgia is crippling, and it takes everything he has not to break down on the spot. “I should go,” he says, draining the remains of his drink as he rises to his feet. 

“Oliver -”

“Why don’t you come back to ours?” Vanessa offers, making to follow, but whatever expression is on his face causes Simone to catch her by the wrist.

“We’re here if you need us, alright?”

“I know,” he says, eternally grateful for their support as he pushes some cab money into her hand. “Get home safe. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

“You’d better,” Vanessa tells him, obstinate in her concern, yet all he can focus on right now is leaving.

The swirling thoughts inside his head are all-consuming, but Oliver is determined to reign in his emotions for a little while longer. Ignoring the way his shoes stick to the tacky vinyl flooring, he grits his teeth as he snakes his way through the crush of humanity. He needs space. Fresh air. Hell, a damn time machine wouldn’t go amiss. He has nobody to blame but himself, and he’s halfway to the exit sign when his pace grinds to a halt, his masochistic streak unable to resist one last glimpse. 

A flash of irrational panic makes him breathe in deep - hold it for a count of three - and when he turns to scan the roiling bodies that fill up the dance floor, he finds them immediately. The shock doesn’t lessen, and if Oliver thought his heart had broken when they’d clung to one another on a train station platform, it’s naught compared to when Elio tips the other man’s chin up with the same fingers that used to play his body like a finely tuned instrument. White noise fills his ears as he ghosts a kiss to his lips - two chaste pecks at first - and then harder. Hungry. Mouths open. Tongues swirling. Deep and dirty. 

Just the way he likes it.

Fool that he is, Oliver doesn’t turn away. But he’s not the only one. Their bawdy display has garnered a small audience of the jealous and horny, and when the cat-calls eventually die down he notices a clearly disappointed red-head stalk past them on route to her table of friends. 

Time has not domesticated him, it seems, and Oliver feels like crying as the world returns frame by frame - the oscillating pulse of the dance track. The lightning burst of colour from the laser system above. An innate sense of powerlessness floods through him - the depths of which he hasn’t experienced since Elio sobbed against his chest in an attic bedroom - and a heavy weight settles in his belly as he recognises the cues and rituals that were once directed at him alone. 

Elio has obviously flourished in his absence. His body language is looser, more relaxed, assured in a way his younger self could only dream of, and Oliver allows an almost-smile as the couple laugh for a moment before turning to walk away. 

His fingers itch for a cigarette - a habit he’s struggling to waive - and the next thing he knows he’s taking a seat at the bar, a double shot of bourbon in his hand he doesn’t remember ordering, and a screaming admonishment from his better judgement to not do anything stupid. 

All I had to do was find the courage to reach out and touch, Elio said once, rife with self-mockery, and Oliver’s advice was to try again later. Was this it? Their later? And if not now, when? Because whatever his feelings of bitterness - whatever his misguided envy - if he lets this opportunity pass him by, he will always wonder. Always look. 

In truth, he already does. 

Ever since Samuel mentioned Elio was moving to the States, he’s carried the idle fantasy of crossing paths in some random book store, eyes locking across a busy street, a name - his, theirs, both - shouted across a bustling coffee shop. Of all eventualities, though, he hasn’t prepared for an Elio who might not be happy to see him. Who might dismiss him. Cast him aside like some ill-fitting chapter in the editing process. The context is all wrong, and for it to happen like this is akin to being plunged into the icy waters of the berm.

“Accidenti!” an achingly familiar voice says from somewhere behind him. “Are all Americans incapable of taking a hint? Or is it just an East Coast thing?”

“It’s the accent, mio amico. Fries their brains.”

“Never mind their brains,” Elio replies in the same lazy drawl. “I think you’ve sprained my tonsils.”

There’s a snicker to his left, and like a moth to a flame, Oliver peers up into the mirror behind the bar, only to find his living nightmare mere meters away, sharing a cigarette. Elio’s still wearing the same bracelets he did that summer, and three years of sleepwalking collapses around him as Oliver hunches over, palms sweating. 

“Seriously though,” the blond continues. “Look at this place! Wall-to-wall entreés, and you won’t so much as skim the menu. You’re spoiled for choice, compagno.”

Elio scoffs as he brings the filter to his lips. “Didn’t I tell you choice is an illusion?”

“As is time, according to Adams.” The man slings an arm over his shoulders. “And here you are, free as a bird, wasting the perfect opportunity.” 

Elio flips him the middle finger. “Stronzo,” he says, leaving Oliver more confused than ever as he studies him over the rim of his glass. “It’s a curse.”

“Self-inflicted, maybe.”

“So what’s the answer? And don’t say forty-two.”

The guy chuckles. “Variety,” he says, signalling the harried bartender. “Things didn’t work out with the violinist - I get it. È la vita! You’re not in the mood for pushy red-heads? Fine. But don’t sell yourself short. Trust Fund Tina’s not the only one checking you out.”

“Perhaps.”

“What perhaps?” A knowing smirk shoots in Oliver’s direction. “See for yourself.”

It’s like experiencing the first tremor of an earthquake. Elio was always a force of nature, and bracing for disaster, Oliver feels the fault lines buckle beneath him. He thought he was done letting fear and shame dictate his life, yet even now, at peace with his true self, he can’t bear to witness the seismic shift between past and present. Instead, he falls back on avoidance, tearing strips off a frayed beer mat until the hair prickles at his nape.

He can feel it - the instant his fate is sealed - and taking a deep breath Oliver returns his eyes to the mirror, meeting Elio’s stunned features. Dark brows climb towards his hairline as the happiness on his face shifts into something else. Something measured. Unrecognisable. A blank slate, almost. For a moment, Oliver fears he’s going to ignore him completely, but then Elio straightens his spine, offers the half-smoked cigarette to his friend, and with a few whispered words strides forward with purpose.

His daring is a law unto himself, but the look he’s giving him now exudes superiority - omniscience, almost - as if he can read every thought that’s going on inside Oliver’s mind, and has already deemed them wanting. It shouldn’t be such a turn on, yet his heart skips a beat regardless. Then another. Every instinct in his body tells him to reach out, to hold Elio’s hand, tuck those wild curls behind his ear, but it’s no longer his place - if it ever really was to begin with - so Oliver takes a deliberate sip of his whiskey, scared and aroused simultaneously, before swivelling towards him.

“Oliver.” His name on Elio’s lips - three smooth syllables - and he feels reborn. “Long time no see.” Hesitating, he offers up a pack of Luckies. “Fumo?”

“I shouldn’t,” he says, dragging trembling fingers through his hair. “I told myself I’d quit. God knows it won't take much to -” 

“Tempt you?” 

Heat rises to Oliver’s cheeks. “Yes,” he admits, and Elio’s smile is a shallow, brittle thing. 

“Well, you know yourself,” he says, returning the cigarette carton to his pocket. “Don’t let me ruin your good intentions.”

His flippancy is like a red rag to a bull, and Oliver’s hackles rise as he sets his drink on the counter, irritated enough by Elio’s calm exterior to try and provoke a reaction. “Is your boyfriend not the jealous type?” 

All he receives is an eye roll. “Bruno’s not my boyfriend.”

“Could’ve fooled me. From what I saw earlier.”

“You saw nothing,” Elio replies, defensive. “We’re friends. Roommates.”

“Roommates?” Rising from his stool, Oliver takes a step towards him. “That kiss -” 

“Is none of your business. Not anymore.” 

It hits him like a punch to the gut. Oliver’s lips part, but no sound passes between them. He’s being irrational, he’ll accept, but old habits die hard, and through sheer force of will he quashes down his guilt, knowing better than to use it as a weapon. 

“Of course,” he says, chastened. “You’re right.” 

“I usually am.” 

“Elio…” This isn’t how he wants the conversation to go. “I know it’s too much to expect your forgiveness, but please don’t be angry with me. We were friends, once. Before anything else.”

“I’m not angry.” A beat. “Not anymore.” Tipping his chin, Elio folds his arms in front of him. One more barrier despite the brush-off. “I’m processing.“

“Processing?”

“Yes, processing. Originates from the Old French proces. Related to the Latin processus, and from the verb procedere in Middle English.”

“Wise ass.”

“Sempre.” Elio shrugs, watching him openly. “What are you doing here, Oliver?”

“My friends saw the flyers,” he says, bypassing the here, specifically, when Elio’s attention drops a few inches lower, and he realises he’s staring at his ring finger.

At the white line that’s all but vanished since he signed his way to freedom.

“You’re…”

Oliver clears his throat. “Divorced,” he manages, shuffling his feet. “Almost three months now.”

“Divorced?” Elio’s mask slams back into place, the distress in his voice palpable. “Why?”

And there are so many things he could say to that - the stress of his job, money, differing expectations - but this is Elio. His first love. His forever love. He, above anyone, deserves the truth. 

“I think you know why.”

“Do I?” That same phony indifference. “What the eyes see, and the ears hear, the mind believes.” 

“The truth is never that simple.”

“Not for us, it seems. Not in this world.” Elio gives his head a small but firm shake, blowing out a frustrated breath. “You know, tonight was supposed to lower my stress levels, not raise them,” he says, granting them a temporary reprieve. “But then, you always were hazardous to my blood pressure.”

“Trust me. The feeling’s mutual,” Oliver tells him wryly. “Might I recommend some deep breaths?”

“Deep breaths?” Elio rocks back on his heels. “If I had any peaches I’d be using my right hand.”

It catches him unawares, and Oliver can't help it. He snorts. Overcome by relief. Then he laughs - a weak sound, and damn near helpless - but a laugh, nonetheless. Cupping a palm to his mouth. Moving it to his eyes. Feeling the tears he’s been fighting since this whole debacle began.

“My God you’re incorrigible,” he mutters, the sharp stab of regret cutting him to the core as he glances over his shoulder, and the blond - Bruno - shoots him a wink. “When you said I saw nothing...”

The hesitant curve of Elio’s smile lights a fire in his chest. “There was a girl on the dance floor who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Lucky for me, Bruno’s never been shy about putting on a convincing performance.” 

Oliver winces. “Well, I bought it.”

“Mission accomplished, then.” Elio edges closer. “I could’ve said the same for you, once upon a time.” The air between them grows charged. “Do you ever miss it?” he asks. “Italy, I mean?”

“Every single day.” Oliver finds himself captivated by the smattering of stubble along Elio’s jawline. The touch of smudged kohl beneath his lashes that turns his gaze smouldering. “Do you?”

“In a way.”

“Just a way?” He’s not entirely certain they’re talking about the same thing, and Vanessa’s advice seems all the more pertinent. “Let me buy you a coffee?” Oliver asks, and Elio frowns.

“What? Now?”

“If you like.” 

“It’s gone midnight!” 

“Tomorrow, then. Whenever you’re available.” Suddenly desperate, he closes the gap between them. “I can’t excuse my actions, Elio - I know I can’t - but at the very least I owe you an explanation.”

“Oliver...” This time it’s Elio who reaches out, his usually steady hands uncertain as they entwine with his. “I was young, not stupid. What’s there to forgive? You left because you had to. You married because -”

“I was weak.”

“Cazatte!” The tension in Elio’s body snaps back like a coil. “My father would have carted me off to a correctional facility,” he murmurs, squeezing his fingers tightly. “I’ll never forget those words.” 

“I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be!” Elio sounds furious on his behalf. “Weak, you say? No. Control over others is the true weakness. Coercion. Conformity. All it does is breed hatred. And that’s not you. Not my Oliver.” 

“Am I still?” he asks, laying his cards out on the table. “Your Oliver?”

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” 

Oliver swallows thickly. “I guess we will,” he says, dropping his forehead to Elio’s crown.

He’s braver at twenty-one than Oliver could have dared imagine, and for the first time in years the dull ache beneath his ribs is replaced by a different sort of craving. The way they fit together so easily, like no time has passed, fans the banked passions within him - the desire to press his lips against Elio’s neck, to nip his way along countless freckles until he can fist those unruly curls and guide his mouth back to where it belongs. 

Flush against his. 

Devouring.

But not yet.

This isn’t leading to sex. Not tonight. This is about reconciliation. Reassurance. Redemption.

“There’s a late-night diner on the corner…”

It’s a whisper against his cheek - so quiet he barely hears it - and Oliver leans down, pressing his face to Elio’s collarbone, breathing him in. He knows this won’t be easy - knows there will be dark clouds before the dawn - yet here they are, older and wiser, and three years might as well be yesterday as the parting crowds provide a temporary island in which to weather the storm.

#cmbyn roll the dice challenge #fanfic #oliver pov #elio and oliver #cmbynrollthedicechallenge

[thefinalcinderella]

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 7 - The Qualifiers (Part 1)

It’s here

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. The Kansei Reforms is a “series of conservative measures promoted (largely during the Kansei era [1789–1801]) by the Japanese statesman Matsudaira Sadanobu between 1787 and 1793 to restore the sinking financial and moral condition of the Tokugawa government.” (Source: Encyclopedia Britannica)

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“The weather’s good today.”

Kakeru stretched deeply and breathed in the refreshing autumn air. According to the weather report they had heard on the radio before heading out, it was thirteen degrees and humidity was at eighty-three percent. And there was almost no wind—for the middle of October, the weather was relatively easy to run in. It’s fitting for a battle, Kakeru thought.

Next to Kakeru, Jouji was looking at a family with a picnic blanket. Being a Saturday, the park was already filled with people who had come to watch the qualifiers while relaxing and taking a walk.

“It looks like fun. My bladder’s been acting funny for a while now, though.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing comes out even when I go to the toilet.”

Jouji had already gone to the washroom more than ten times since getting up, but it would be pointless even if Kakeru told him not to be nervous. The sound of the taiko drums from each school’s cheerleading squad resounded through the Showa Memorial Park in Tachikawa—it was an unavoidable reminder that the qualifiers would soon begin.

By noon that day, it would be decided whether or not they would be able to participate in the Hakone Ekiden. Unable to find any words that would soothe Jouji’s high-strung nerves, Kakeru only said, “Me too.”

Jouta was sprawled out on top of the grass a little farther away, his eyes tightly closed. His hands, which were resting on his stomach, sometimes twitched, so it didn’t seem like he was sleeping. Even though everyone at Chikusei-sou had woken up before dawn and taken the train for about an hour to get to Showa Memorial Park, Kakeru didn’t feel sleepy; every single corner of his consciousness was clear.

“I’m going to go jogging one more time. What about you, Jouji?”

When Kakeru asked that, Jouji answered, “I’m going to the washroom.” Kakeru parted with Jouji and left the lawn, then started running through the large park.

The runners from the other schools were also concentrating on warming up and familiarizing themselves with the terrain of the park. Every time he caught sight of the blue jerseys of TSU, Kakeru’s heart leapt awkwardly; he didn’t want to run into Sakaki. If his concentration before the race was disturbed, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself after just quarrelling with him this time.

A wave of spectators had already started rushing towards the start point to cheer on their favorite schools and runners. There were cheering squad members dressed in gakuran holding large flags and many musical instruments, and they were having heated arguments with the cheering squads of other schools in order to secure the best possible spot.

He had already warmed up enough. He didn’t feel like he could stay still, but he couldn’t tire himself out before the race, Kakeru told himself. He stopped jogging and returned to the grass near the start point.

The banner made by Yaokatsu and the plasterer had been put up, so Kansei’s camp was easy to identify. The people from the shopping district were sitting on picnic blankets, waiting for the signal gun that would announce the beginning of the qualifiers. The residents of Chikusei-sou had all gathered after having finished their running preparations. Scattered around them at suitable distances were the other schools’ camps, their multicolored banners dyed with the names of their school.

“Our banner is pretty good.”

King, seeing Kakeru, started talking to him immediately. Is it? Kakeru thought, but noticing King’s trembling fingers, he obediently nodded, “Yes.”

“To begin with, Kansei U esteems the spirit of Lord Matsudaira Sadanobu, who carried out the Kansei Reforms (1)…”

Perhaps because he was nervous, King began discharging miscellaneous trivia like a broken tape record at a tourist information desk. Kakeru sat down while making half-hearted interjections—Hanako had prepared blankets and water bottles, so the plastic sheet had become a comfortable space.

“We did a trial run, so I’m sure you all understand what we’re doing, but let’s review today’s strategy,” Kiyose said. Shindou and Musa were staring at the TV crew’s equipment admiringly, but hurriedly went over to Kiyose. Kakeru drew a rough map of the qualifiers’ race course on a whiteboard.

“What’s that, a maze?” Prince’s brows knitted together.

“The course is simple,” Kakeru started explaining the diagram with a hint of objection aimed at Prince. “We start at the JSDF garrison that adjoins the park. We do two laps around the runway and the taxiway. Then, we go out onto the road, go along the street in front of the station, go under the elevated monorail, and then return to the park. We do one lap of the park, and the finish line is next to the grass clearing.”

Kiyose pointed out important points about the course.

“We didn’t do a trial run at the garrison, but just think of the runway and taxiway as a very spacious track. Those two laps are five kilometers. It’s our first time running in this place, and there are no landmarks or signs, so it will probably be hard to grasp the distance. I don’t know how the race will unfold, but don’t get influenced by the runners who are running fast from the starting line; figure out your pacing by yourself. You’ll have done ten kilometers about the time you pass under the monorail. You’ll turn back at the eleven or twelve kilometer point, and you’ll be at fifteen kilometers immediately after you return to the park. There’s a water station, but don’t worry too much if you don’t happen to get any. And then from here, it’ll be a battle of whether or not you have enough strength left. The park has a lot of small ups and downs, but give it one last push and run to the finish line as fast as you can.”

“I have a question.” Musa raised his hand. “In order to pass the qualifiers, what are the times we need to set? I would like to know a rough estimate.”

“I don’t want to tell you too much because I don’t want you to panic, but…” Kiyose hesitated.

“These guys need to panic a bit. If you leave them to their own devices they’ll just crawl the whole way,” Yuki said. “It varies year to year, depending on the weather and the development of the race, but if the ten of us have a combined time in the ten hour and twelve minute range, then we’ll be safe.”

“Hie!” The twins let out strange sounds.

“So, what you’re saying is that it’s twenty kilometers per person and we’re running them in a little over an hour?” Jouta said.

“That’s just over three minutes per kilometer, Nii-chan!” Jouji said.

“And we don’t have intercollegiate points,” Nico-chan supplemented. “If we finish seventh or lower for time, there’s a high chance we’ll suddenly lose because intercollegiate points will get involved. We want to break into the top six, where it’s decided purely using just the total times.”

“We’ll be fine,” Kiyose reassuringly calmed their agitation. “Kakeru and I will make as much time as we can. There’s a lot of participants, so run together at first and maintain your pace. While you’re doing your first lap on the runway, those who don’t have enough energy should be shaken off. Never be tempted by a pace that’s too fast or too slow.”

“Okay,” Jouji responded like a good boy.

“However,” Kiyose added, “if the leading group is too fast I’ll give you a signal, but otherwise you’ll have to keep up with them, or it’ll be hard to pass the qualifiers. If all ten of us don’t get to the finish line with all our strength, then everything will end today!”

Most of them had resolved themselves inwardly, but Prince and King already seemed to be getting cold feet.

“Can we do this?” they muttered to each other. “It seems tough…”

“I have a question too.” The owner of Yaokatsu raised his hand.

“Dad!” Hanako admonished him, but he continued talking without minding her.

“The other universities seem to have more people in uniforms than you do. What’s up with that exactly?”

“Katsu-chan, I was wondering about that too.” The plasterer looked around. “I counted, but there are twelve people wearing uniforms at TSU and NKU. We only have ten people.”

“You noticed something unfortunate, sir.” Kiyose forced a smile. “For the qualifiers, a team can register a maximum of fourteen people as expected participants. Taking into account physical conditions and other things, they whittle it down to twelve people on the day of the race."

Yuki pushed up his glasses and added to his explanation.

"In Hakone, the universities all compete against each other with the combined times of the top ten people among them. That means teams with lots of members have two extra people for insurance.”

As Kansei only had ten runners, if any one of them failed to reach the finish line, their path to Hakone would be severed. Learning once again the weight of the responsibility he was bearing, Prince paled and clutched at his stomach. Conversely, Kakeru’s fighting spirit reached its peak, and he couldn’t wait to start running.

“Let’s do our best.” Jouji said cheerfully, perhaps having given up on his bladder that wouldn’t obey his will. “Today we’re avenging the landlord!”

“He’s not dead,” Kakeru muttered.

It was almost time to assemble at the starting line.

“Let’s go,” Kiyose said readily.

“We’re not going to form a huddle and cheer?” King asked nervously.

“Do you want to do that?”

“No, but…” King mumbled his words. Conscious of the TV cameras, he was fretting about not looking good if they didn’t do something. Kiyose guessed what King was thinking.

“The mountains of Hakone are the steepest in the world!” He said. “Now, let’s go.”

Kiyose, who started walking at once, was as calm as usual. Either dumbfounded or stifling their laughter, the members of Chikusei-sou followed him.

“Go!”

“Win and come back!”

The people of the shopping district saw them off.

“We’ll be waiting for you at the finish line!”

Everyone only waved back at Hanako’s words. Once the runners started moving, the spectators began to make their way across the large park towards the finish line. Hanako and the others carried their bags and made preparations to set up camp in the grass clearing.

“What’s the matter with them? Having those soppy looks on their faces,” Yaokatsu and the plasterer huffed.

There were cheering contests for each school beginning; helicopters circling in the sky; TV cameras set up here and there; bikes keeping pace with the runners while filming them; leading cars with speakers; the noise of the spectators along the course, waiting for the runners to pass by. Experiencing this brilliance and enthusiasm for the first time, Chikusei-sou couldn’t help but shrink back.

“I didn’t know the Hakone Ekiden was this popular already starting from the qualifiers,” Shindou said, moved.

“I went to the washroom with Prince-san just now,” Jouji said. “I was shocked. It was my first time seeing a men’s room with a line for the stalls. The participants were taking turns going number two.”

“I used to have a prejudice against people who did sports.” Prince was still rubbing his stomach. “I thought they were all muscle down to their brains, but it seems that everyone has delicate nerves, surprisingly.”

Jouta had been lying down like a corpse, but incredibly, he was now walking with a bounce in his step. It seemed that he had overcome his nervousness with concentration.

“We’re finally taking our first step towards winning Hakone.”

Winning? Kakeru glanced at Kiyose. Even if they could pass the qualifiers, it would be impossible to win the main race with these members. Kiyose noticed his gaze and silently smiled a little. Don’t say anything that would lower their morale right now, his eyes said.

The participants crowded the start point. They could see the TSU uniforms beyond the wall of people. Kansei would be setting out from the rear.

When you look at it like this…Kakeru thought. Their builds were completely different. The runners in front of him from schools that frequently competed in Hakone had tight and lean figures. However, some of the university students starting from the back had obviously heavy frames and leg muscles that suggested that they hadn’t been running long enough. 

But the biggest difference was the expressions on their faces: the runners from schools that were called weak weren’t experienced and looked unsure of themselves before the race. It’s cruel, Kakeru thought. Even though long distance running was a sport where it was relatively feasible to manage somehow with hard work, the cold hard truth was that there were still the physical abilities and constitutions that one was born with. In addition, whether or not the runners could prepare an environment, equipment and coaches that would allow them to devote themselves to the sport depended on the financial power of their school.

Nevertheless, there was no difference in the level of seriousness in aiming for Hakone among the people gathered there. No matter what one’s position or circumstances were, in running, everyone had no choice but to stand at the same starting line. Success or failure were brought forth by one’s own body right at that moment.

That’s why it’s fun as well as painful. And freer than anything else.

Kakeru looked at the members of Chikusei-sou, dressed in their black and silver uniforms; bodies with no extra fat and supple muscles stretched thinly over their frames. They were the bodies of living beings built for running, not inferior to the runners of the regular schools. They were not afraid, and their eyes sparkled with curiosity and fighting spirit.

We can do this, Kakeru thought.

He didn’t think about anything else. Once they started, there was only running. Kakeru fixed his gaze ahead and waited for the departure signal gun.

It was eight-thirty in the morning. The qualifiers began.

Thirty-six schools—four hundred and fifteen runners—started running at once. It was the opening of the battle where the right to participate in the Hakone Ekiden was at stake.

Only nine schools can go to Hakone from here. We’ll definitely be one of them. Kakeru kicked off the ground with all his strength.

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#Kaze ga tsuyoku fuiteiru #kazetsuyo #kazetsuyo translations #run with the wind

[the-cult-of-russo]

Push and Pull (Part 15)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing, smut

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It was bright and early when Daphne woke up the next morning. She had things to do and no time to waste. The sun was shining through her window, the weather finally starting to get warmer. She put on some leggings with a tank top and then her zip up hoodie over it. She groaned at her hair in the mirror as she dragged her brush through the unruly locks. So many times she considered cutting it so it wasn't so much work, but she knew she'd regret it. Instead, she settled on tossing it up into a high pony and ignoring it. Her trusty backpack was slung around her shoulder and she hopped around as she put her vans on before leaving the apartment. 

She squinted slightly at the light once she got out of the building but it didn't deter her. First stop. Coffee. One large latte to go later, she was on her way to see Brett to find out what news he might have. She tossed her now empty cup in the trash can beside the station before she jogged up the steps and inside. She never checked in with the desk, she was a ghost when she was here. That's how it worked. It wasn't such a secret anymore than she was on Brett's payroll which left her to come and go as she pleased, but officially, she was never there. When she walked into the office area, Brett was sitting at his desk just like the day before. He looked like he hadn't even gone home.

"You look like shit," she mused teasingly, putting down the other coffee she'd gotten for him. His eyes lit up at the sight of it and he gave her a tired smile. 

"You're an angel," he muttered with a long pull from his drink as she sat down. The coffee at the precinct was the worst and never really did its job. 

"Any news yet?" She tried to hide the impatience in her voice but she wasn't sure she succeeded.

"Actually, we do have something. Not quite sure the full details yet though," he murmured. She looked at him expectantly.

"The people we rescued, their fingertips were burnt right off just like the last time. We can't identify most of 'em until they're fully coherent. But they're doing alright. I just can't believe the Chinese were at it again right under our goddamn noses," he fumed, taking another slurp of his coffee.

"I'm not surprised. They probably picked it back up when the heat turned off them again," she sighed. She hoped that once the victims were in a better state they'd be able to get names from them. Some of them might have family that were looking for them.

"Anything from the device?" She asked hopefully

"Yeah, actually. The Chinese requested the meet. They were pretty vague about a lot of shit but they kept saying something about the Italians having a weapon and they wanted to use it. Seemed to be brokering a deal about it. I got no idea what the hell this weapon is, but the Chinese really fucking want it and the Italians already have it. And that makes me nervous as shit," he frowned. 

It made her nervous too. What did the Italians have that the Chinese couldn't get for themselves? And why did they want it? 

"Well that's unsettling," she huffed with a shake of her head.

"Tell me about it. Good news though, that device you planted must be well hidden. It’s still live and active," he flashed her a grin and she smiled herself as she gave herself a mental pat on the back.

"Do you think it'll be useful?" She inquired.

"No telling yet. I mean mostly it'll be the kitchen staff but it might pick up something. Any other meets we might not be aware of or anyone saying something. Even something small can lead to something big, right?" He smirked, practically quoting her. It made her chuckle. 

"At least that's something. If we can figure out what weapon the Italians have we can figure out how bad this all is," she said softly. It made her nervous and she had a feeling things would get messy soon in Hell's Kitchen. 

"Here's hoping. There ain't much for you to do with the case right now but I'll let you know when we get any more information. It's just a waiting game now," he replied.

"Ah, my favourite," she smirked sarcastically, causing him to snort. She wasn't known for having patience. She liked answers and she liked them immediately. But in this case, playing the long game would be the only option to getting to the bottom of it all.

She bid her goodbyes to him not long after that before making her way back out into the sunshine. Now it was her next pit stop. A short cab ride later and she was at a very fancy luxurious home. It was more like a mansion and was three stories high. It looked like it was right out of a movie with one of those grand entrances and a water feature out front. She was well out of place as dressed down as she was but she knocked on the door anyway. She wasn't even surprised when a butler answered the door.

"Can I help you, miss?" The older man asked softly. His black and white uniform was crisp and clean and it put her own rumpled clothes to shame.

"I'm here to see Mrs Grimes. I'm Daphne Weaver," she replied awkwardly. 

"One moment please," he shut the door and she quirked her brow at how formal all this was. This better pay well. Suddenly the door opened again and he smiled at her.

"This way please. She's been hoping you'd come," he seemed a little friendlier now. Maybe it was because his boss wanted her here so he wasn't all suspicious of what she wanted. Either way, she followed him inside. He led her up the huge ass staircase, the kind that split off at the middle. Everything looked like it cost a million dollars, from the art to all the rare looking things in cabinets. She didn't even feel worthy enough to touch the banister so she kept her hands in her hoodie pocket. 

The carpet was lush and a deep purple colour and she found her eyes wandering the hallway they walked down. How many rooms does someone need? No wonder she had staff, upkeep on this place would be a ball ache. They reached a room far down the left and he knocked on the heavy looking mahogany door.

"Enter," a female voice rang out. It was slightly accented but she couldn't place it. Jeeves opened the door and gestured for her to go inside. She glanced around the room curiously as she walked in. It was a living area with a grand fire. Heavy bookcases lined the walls of the room and were filled with what looked to be antique books that Daphne found herself wanting to look at. There was a giant fur rug in front of the fireplace with velvet looking sofas set in front of it. 

That's where Mrs Grimes was sitting, looking perfectly in place for where she was. She was wearing a long black dress, heels bigger than anything Daphne could ever walk in. Her greying blonde hair was neatly coiffed and pinned up and she was dripping in diamonds. Jesus. 

"Pleasure to meet you Ms Weaver, please sit," she smiled warmly at her, gesturing to the other sofa. Daphne was half worried her vans would dirty the goddamn carpet as she padded over and plonked down. Despite it being completely over the top and not really her taste, she did appreciate however how clean and neat everything was kept. A place like this could easily fall into being cluttered and dusty but it was pristine. She supposed the staff were to thank for that. Mrs Grimes' nails were so long she doubted she could do much cleaning herself. Daphne wasn't sure how she didn't accidentally gauge her own eyes out.

"Would you like something to drink?" She asked politely. Jeeves was still hovering near the door no doubt waiting for his command. She was tempted to say yes to see what kind of beverages the other side drank, but she didn't want to stay long.

"Uh… no thank you. I'm fine," she replied with an awkward smile.

"Very well. Hammond, leave us," she dismissed the man at the door. He gave a dramatic nod before he left and shut the door behind him. She idly wondered if he ever wanted to punch his bosses when they commanded him to do things like that. She'd never be able to hold a job like that down.

"I'm glad you came, I was worried you wouldn't," the older woman started, elegantly crossing one leg over the other.

"A job's a job," Daphne snorted lightly, her hands still stuffed in her pockets lest she touch something and ruin it. Mrs Grimes gave her a tense smile, looking like it was difficult to be polite. Maybe she wasn't used to the lower class being in her home. 

"Indeed it is. Will you take the case?" She asked hopefully. 

"Yeah, I'll be able to do it. As I tell all my clients, I don't give out time frames. I never know how long it'll take me to find what I need or what roadblocks might come up. I don't appreciate impatience and it doesn't make me work any faster," she said firmly. Establishing boundaries was the first thing she liked to do. It was important. Especially with the wealthy ones as in her experience they tended to be the impatient ones with their self importance.

"Very well. I accept your terms. And please, whatever you find, do tell me," she implored. Daphne nodded, she always did no matter how shitty the information she'd gained was. Mrs Grimes stood, walking somehow with grace and ease in those monster heels as she walked over to a cupboard near the wall. She opened a drawer and came back with some paper.

"Me and my husband used to be very much in love. And I'm afraid now that I'm older he's decided to find other companions. Call me paranoid but I'm sure you understand when to look into a gut feeling," she mused as she walked back over and sat down. Daphne nodded again. Her gut was rarely wrong and it was telling her that Mrs Grimes was right.

"I want confirmation. I want to know who with and how deep it runs. If it's just physical or something more. I want to prepare myself should he try to divorce me and take what I have. I need proof," she stated seriously. Daphne's eyes subconsciously swept across the room and all the fancy things in it.

"I know what you're thinking. And I was the one with money, not him. He makes a decent amount with his job but I was born with money. This house was passed through my family for generations. Everything in it I bought. But over the years I've had my eyes opened to how greedy my husband can be. I cannot trust if we separate that he won't try to take everything from me," she sounded bitter and Daphne wasn't surprised. They definitely sounded like they had issues and once trust was gone in a relationship, everything else had no foundation to stand on. It wouldn't last. She commended the woman for thinking ahead to make sure she was protected if it came down to it. This kind of bullshit was why relationships were too much work.

"I'll find out what I can. I'll be honest, some of my methods aren't quite… legal. But it gets the job done," Daphne muttered. Things like breaking and entering were definitely illegal and then there was hacking if she ever needed to do it, which in this case might prove useful.

"Good," Mrs Grimes smirked at her. She found herself smirking back at her. The rich typically didn't care too much about how she got the information, just that she got it. Mrs Grimes reached down to her Gucci purse, setting it on her lap and she grabbed something out of it. It was her wallet and Daphne was curious what her offer would be. She hadn't spoken to her about price points yet and when it came to her wealthier clients she made a point of waiting to see what their offer would be first. Usually she’d haggle a little just because she could. They'd have the money and they wanted the information. 

She watched with a keen eye as Mrs Grimes took a chunk of money out and handed it to her. A quick count told her it was $1000 and it took effort for her eyes to not bulge out as she kept a cool calm facade.

"That's the deposit. You'll get the rest when the work is complete. Another $1000. I may give you more depending on just how much you find out," she drawled. So she wouldn't need to haggle then, this price was insane and way more than what the job would entail, but like fuck she would tell her that. She also appreciated the incentive. She liked a challenge, something to work towards. The more she found out then the more she'd get paid. 

"Sounds good to me. I'll get started in the next few days," she replied, keeping her calm demeanour and not acting like she was thinking of what she would spend her money on once she got it all. She carefully stuffed it in her backpack before zipping it back up. She almost jumped when the older woman dinged a bell beside the table and it took all of her willpower not to roll her eyes as the butler walked in.

"Yes, Mrs Grimes?" He enquired politely. 

"Please see Ms Weaver out. Have one of our drivers drop her off to wherever she needs to go," she commanded softly. Part of her wanted to protest but the other wanted to pretend she lived the fancy life, even if just for a moment. 

They both stood and Mrs Grimes took her hand in one of those fancy people hand shakes that were flimsy and light. 

"It was a pleasure, Ms Weaver. I hope to hear from you soon," she smiled. 

"Likewise," she replied, not really knowing what to say. No matter how many well off clients she saw she always felt weird and out of place interacting with them.  She followed Jeeves out the hall and down the large stairs case. He stopped when he got by the front door and picked up a phone that was attached to the wall. She stood there looking around as the man spoke in hushed tones down the receiver before hanging up and then opening the grand front door. 

"Have a lovely day, Ms Weaver," he bowed politely.

"Uh… you too," she murmured as she stepped outside. 

The door shut with a clang behind her and she was suddenly on her own outside. It didn't last long though as a large black car pulled up right at the entryway.

"Ms Weaver?" A man called out after rolling the window down. She nodded and walked over. She was getting sick of being called that name. The man hopped out, jogging over to the back of the car and opening the door for her. This really was fancy service. She gave him an uncomfortable smile, not used to this level of service from anyone. It felt wrong almost. But she slipped inside and settled in the ridiculously comfy car seats. 

"Where to, Miss?" The man asked once he was situated behind the wheel again. 

"Um… Fogwell's gym please," she murmured in response. He punched in something on the phone he was using with the GPS and then he took off. There was a reason she was dressed the way she was after all. She didn't want to think of Matt being a weird asshole the day before. As much as part of her considered not going, she really needed to train and she knew he would be there. She was too stubborn to let Matt's weird PMSing get in the way of her learning to defend herself properly. 

The drive was uncomfortably silent and she clutched her backpack on her knees. She wondered what it was like to live this life full time. She was a bitch but she didn't feel right with commanding people to do shit, even if she was paying them. It just felt off to her. Before long, the car pulled up in front of the gym. She almost felt like she should pay him or something, totally not used to this kind of exchange. As she unbuckled her seat belt, the man got out and ran around to her door. He opened it and she slipped out, swinging her bag over her shoulder. She noticed the apprehensive look on his face as he looked at the rundown gym.

"Are you sure, Miss?" He asked quietly, like he was asking her to blink twice if she needed help. She almost snorted but gave him a polite smile. She guessed his boss wasn't used to being around places like this. She appreciated his sentiments all the same though.

"I'm sure," she said softly. He nodded, still looking unhappy about it but there was nothing he could do. With a nod, he was back in the car and taking off by the time she walked through the door.

She was quiet and heard loud grunting and the hits of a punching bag. As she came into view, she saw Matt beating the holy hell out of the bag. His fists were flying, grunts and pants leaving his lips with the flurry of punches. The graceful savagery was what always intrigued her about him. But then typically he'd open his mouth and ruin it. He hadn't seemed to notice her yet once again which honestly was perturbing since anyone could come in here and sneak up on him like that. She walked over to the bench, setting her backpack down with a thud. The grunts and punches stopped instantly and the only sound that echoed in the gym was Matts heavy breathing.

"Didn't think you'd show," he said carelessly. 

"I wasn't sure either honestly. But I need to train, even if I do have to put up with your bitch ass," she muttered as she started wrapping her hands. He scoffed as he came over, grabbing his water bottle and drinking a large pull from it. He tossed the bottle down again as he made his way to the ring.

"Alright, come on then," he demanded. 

"What? I don't get to warm up first?" She asked skeptically with a raised brow. He snorted coldly and shook his head.

"You wanna know how to defend yourself for real, there is no warming up. When you're out there in a situation like this, you don't get that luxury," he retorted. She rolled her eyes but honestly couldn't argue with sound logic.

Instead, she bit her tongue as she put on the gloves and climbed inside of the ring. Matt cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders as they squared off with one another. 

"Let's go," he smirked devilishly. He lunged at her but she moved just in time, twirling around as they practically traded places. They started trading blows, although his were very clearly intended not to hurt her, and she was pleased she got some good jabs in. She didn't slow down or stop this time when he deflected or managed a light shot to her side. She just came back twice as hard. She was proud of herself. Her heart was thumping away from the adrenaline and the exertion of the sparring after a while and she leaned against the ropes as they both caught their breath.

"You did good. You're getting better," he sounded reluctant to give her the praise and she rolled her eyes a little at him.

"I want you to teach me how to get out of the hold from last time," she said firmly. His head turned to her then, his hazel eyes not quite landing directly at her as he narrowed them.

"Daphne, I don't think-" he started, only to be promptly cut off.

"It's fine. I need to learn and I'll get over it. I think I'll be fine this time," she urged. She meant it too. She still had lingering effects of her attack but she was feeling a little better recently. And after her and Matt's partially regrettable night together, she hadn't had a nightmare for the first night since it happened. She knew the sex had helped. Whenever she needed to feel better and clear her head, she would have sex. It's why her sister was so worried it would become a crux for her. Her sex with Matt had done wonders for her stress and anxiety over the whole thing so she felt like now was the perfect time to try to learn it. 

He was quiet for a moment before heaving a heavy sigh. He yanked his gloves off and tossed them out of the ring and she followed suit before he changed his mind. Climbing to the floor, she lay on her back and bent her knees just like the last time. As he knelt down between her legs, it was hard not to think of the night they shared together and how similar it was. 

"Ready?" He asked reluctantly. She gave him a firm nod he couldn't see but could sense and he brought his hands to her throat. Once again, he applied very little pressure but she lay perfectly still. Her heart wasn't hammering like crazy, she wasn't seeing Keiran hovering over her. She was fine. Matt stayed still as he did his head tilt thing and it took her a moment to realise he was listening to her heartbeat to check if she was okay or not. It was kind of creepy but she let it go. 

He talked her through the steps of how to get out of that kind of hold. One at a time he'd tell her what to do and correct her if she got it wrong as they did a slow mo version one part at a time to ensure she knew each step. It was more complicated than the last one but after a few step by step tries she thought she had a good idea on what to do. Now it was time to get out of it for real. 

"3, 2 ,1," he counted, preparing her somewhat so she didn't lose her shit like last time. This time he applied some pressure around her throat but it was still practically nothing. She felt his weight bearing down on her and she grabbed his right forearm with her left and then used her right hand to grip his left shoulder in a cross grip. Using her left foot, she pushed off his hip, pivoting her pelvis to the right so he was no longer directly above her. She hooked her right leg high up on his back, right under his armpit and she kept a firm grip on him as her left leg moved to wrap around his shoulder too, locking it onto her other. She grabbed his wrist, the one that was in her grip that was now at her mercy on her chest. She knew if she thrust her pelvis upwards sharply she would break his arm at his elbow. 

It had happened so fast but she caught herself before completing the maneuver and felt pleased with herself. She let go of his arm and rolled them over so he was now under her. They were both panting and she laughed lightly, feeling good she actually did it. She was a little sweaty and she looked down at where he lay under her. His brow had a slight sheen to his and his hair was doing that thing where it went every which way. His eyes were wandering as he caught his breath with a grin. She wasn't the only one enjoying their session it seemed. 

She felt his hands glide up her thighs that were around him and she'd be a liar if she said it didn't make her tingle. His unseeing eyes were burning into her, pupils blown wide. She went to move off him but he held her in place, only now she was hovering right in front of his face. One of his hands rested on the base of her neck and he pulled her down a little. She stayed still though and resisted as her lips were a breath away from his.

"We're not on the same page, remember?" She teased him, enjoying seeing him this worked up. She squeaked when her back hit the mat when he rolled them over quickly. She hadn't expected it. 

"I'm over it," he smirked devilishly at her before his lips collided with hers. 

She should have really stopped to think about it. To assess the validity of his words. But sex with Matt was something else and it made her feel amazing. All her stress and worries melted away last time. And although she knew going down that rabbit hole wasn't good with her past of sometimes becoming dependant on sex for her own mental well being, she couldn't really help herself. She blamed Matt for being insufferable and ridiculously attractive. The kiss was rough and demanding and she gave into him, moaning as he pushed himself against her through the thin fabric of their pants. He knelt up, tugging at his vest and lifting it over his head. Something dawned on her then.

"We're gonna do this here? What if someone walks in?" She snorted amused. She wasn’t one to shy away from sex in weird places but she didn't want some old dude walking in and getting a free show. He tossed his vest on the floor as he chuckled, jumping to his feet and climbing out the ring. She sat up, watching him curiously as he went and locked the door from the inside. She couldn't take her eyes off him as he prowled back to her though. The predatory grace he held, the way his sculpted body moved. In her needy and horny haze she found herself impatient for him to return and she felt like he was taking his time to tease her if his smirk was anything to go by. She pulled her shirt off and then her bra, tossing them in a heap beside them as Matt toed off his shoes. 

He knelt back down then, his hands curling her ankles and yanking them lightly. Her back hit the mat with a light thud and she looked up at him shocked before laughing. With a wicked grin, he pulled her leggings and panties off together but painfully slow and her desire was increasing with every second he made her wait for it. She wouldn't beg though. She sat back up, tugging at his shorts and he bent down, kissing her roughly as she yanked them down with his boxers. She fisted him tightly and he moaned into her mouth, causing her to smirk into the kiss. Letting go, she pulled the shorts and boxers all the way off him before pushing him onto his back. 

It was his turn to look mildly shocked and she climbed on top of him, her slick heat trapping his cock against his belly. His eyes were darting around her face and she leant forward, catching his lower lip with her teeth. He let out a long groan, arching up at her as she tugged it before letting it go with a pop. She sat up, pushing up on her knees before she gripped him and lined herself up. Without a word she sank down onto him and the pair moaned in relief. It was instant for her, that feeling of him filling her up like that. Knowing her release would come soon. She rested her hands on his firm chest for leverage as she started moving her hips. His hands felt like they were all over her body at once. Not soft or sweet, but firm and demanding and he took in every detail of her body. 

The gym was filled with moans and gasps as she rode him hard, her anger at his behaviour and the thrill of fighting with him fuelling her pleasure. She almost found it ironic that they were fucking in a boxing ring with how often they fought. He pulled her down roughly, lips smashing against hers as he ravaged her mouth. She felt that euphoric feeling getting closer, her whole body tingling in anticipation. She got faster and harder, chasing the release she was after like her life depended on it. 

"Don't stop," Matt groaned against her lips, one hand gripping the back of her neck while the other was on her ass, fingers digging into her flesh. She had no plan on stopping though. Not when she was this close. She kept up the pace and then she moaned loudly, her body tensing lightly as she clamped down around him. 

He let out the hottest fucking noise she’d ever heard a human make and it only heightened her own pleasure as she rode the waves of her orgasm. He was clinging onto her tightly, rutting up into her as he panted and then groaned, spilling himself inside of her. He relaxed instantly. Hands falling to his sides. She sat there on top of him as she tried to catch her breath. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair had started falling out of her ponytail. She was thoroughly fucked and in the best way. That beautiful feeling was coursing through her veins as she let the hormones and endorphins flow though her. 

She climbed off him carefully before standing up and stretching.

"I'm gonna hit the shower," she hummed sounding blissful as she scooped up her clothes. She walked completely naked to the showers and got herself cleaned up and presentable. She didn't regret it, it was amazing and she felt good now. And from the sounds he made, he enjoyed himself too. She just hoped he meant it when he said they were on the same page. 

--------------

Matt stood in his own shower in the men’s changing rooms as he let the cold water pelt him. His brain was a fried mess and he leaned against the cool tiles as he tried to just think clearly. He wasn't sure why he'd done it again, not after last time. He couldn’t really say what had bothered him about the fact she left last time. He'd gotten out of the shower and went to his room and she was just gone. No words, no note, nothing. He knew it had been purely physical, they could barely tolerate each other. He wasn't stupid enough to think too deeply into it. Yet it left him feeling strangely hollow when she’d just left him like that.

And then when he had turned up to work, Foggy had been acting weird. After some pressure he'd told Matt about his conversation with Daphne. Matt was pretty sure he hadn't gotten the whole story from him but the gist of her saying it was just sex was clear. And he'd told Foggy she was right. It was a one time thing because of all their pent up anger and the adrenaline from the night they'd had. He told his best friend to stop thinking about it. Yet he hadn't been able to do the same. He'd ended up texting her using Foggy's phone to see if she would be home and then he went to see her. No rhyme or reason or idea why he was going there. All he knew was that it bothered him.

It wasn't like he’d never had casual sex before, although he couldn't say it happened much the last few years. And his inability to understand why he was feeling the way he was led to them fighting again. Because she was right. But he hadn't been able to let it go. So when he left, he told himself it wouldn't happen again. She was trouble and being around her wore him out. It wasn't worth it. So how did he end up here again? Oh that's right, apparently he'd turned into a horny teenager again. A bit of sparring, feeling her body against his and sensing how happy she was in the ring really fucked his hormones over. And now here he was again. Only this time it was his own fault. She’d actually turned him down and he'd been the one to push. He couldn't say he regretted it either. It was the best damn sex he’d ever had and it left him feeling more chilled out than he felt in a long time. He'd keep his mouth shut this time and not act like a teenage girl about it. He dug himself into this hole and now he had to climb his own way out. 

-----------------------

Daphne towel dried her hair as much as she could and it left it wavy. She scooped it up in a messy bun on top of her head, a few stands framing her face. The euphoric feeling she got after sex was easing but she still felt calm and settled. It was nice, she didn't get to experience it that much anymore. She really didn't want to have to face Matt, not knowing if he'd throw a tantrum like last time. She didn't want him to read into it again or act all weird about it. It really killed the vibe and ruined her good mood. She'd tried to stop it from happening, not wanting to deal with that again, but she hadn't been able to help herself when he'd wanted her so clearly. There was something addictive about it. But now she felt dread settle into her bones as she thought about how he would react. 

She took her sweet time getting dried and dressed simply to buy herself some time. But eventually she was done and she had to leave the changing room. As she walked out into the main part of the gym, Matt was sitting on the bench tying his laces. 

"Ready?" He asked softly. No awkward questions, no anger in his voice. Maybe he was on the same page now after all. She felt relief sweep through her, allowing her to enjoy the calmness that she'd been left with after their time together. 

"Yeah," she replied, grabbing her backpack and putting it over her shoulder. 

Matt grabbed his cane where it was leaning against the wall. He was now wearing a hoodie too and he grabbed his glasses out of the pocket as he slid them onto his face. She wondered if he ever got sick of having to act blind. He was blind but not like the average blind person. He didn't really need the stick and she'd seen him 'bumping' into things like he hadn't known they were there before. When they stepped out into the sunshine, she winced and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Jesus christ! I think I've joined the blind club," she grumbled, rubbing her poor eyes. The sun just burnt the shit out of her retinas. He let out a surprised laugh, the door shutting behind them.

"Here," he grinned. She cracked a wary eye open, seeing him holding out his glasses to her, but she didn't take them.

"It's not like I need them,” he teased. It helped. She felt a little better. She slid them onto her face and her eyeballs thanked her immediately. They started walking down the street together and she glanced into a window as they walked by, looking at her reflection. She snorted at herself. Her hair, despite being recently washed and put up, was a wavy mess. Her cheeks were still rosy pink and the glasses looked weird on her face.

"They suit you," he mused playfully. She shoved him lightly, causing him to laugh when an older woman gasped at her actions.

"Assaulting a blind man in public? It's like you want to get arrested," he smirked.

"Yeah well, Foggy will be my lawyer so I'll be good," she quipped back with a grin. Now they were on the same page they seemed to be amicable after venting their frustration on each other. 

"You really think my best friend would take your side over mine?" He asked, faking being hurt as he held his hand over his heart. She stopped walking and he did the same as she looked at him.

"I hate to say it but I think he prefers me now. Not that I can blame him. You are a bit of an asshole," she grinned mischievously. He gaped at her before his hand darted out and went to grab the glasses. She squeaked, holding them in place as he tried to steal them from her face.

"You don't deserve my glasses," he snorted.

"Come on! I need my eyes, I'm not like you!" She whined pitifully. 

"And what's this?! My two favourite people, getting along nicely? Is the world ending?" A dramatic voice sounded from next to them. Both she and Matt stilled completely in a comical way before they took a step away from each other. Both of them looked caught out as they looked at a very smug Foggy.

"This is great! Better than great! I love this," he beamed like a kid on Christmas. Daphne groaned and glared at him from the glasses still perched on her face.

"Foggy, I swear! You want us to not kill each other when we're in the same room? Don't make a big deal about it when it happens," she huffed. 

"It is a big deal. You're both laughing and smiling together. This is huge. It's like a rare solar event or something," he defended. 

She resisted the urge to throttle him as Matt rubbed his temples. 

"Foggy," Matt warned lightly.

"Okay! I get it, I'm making it weird. This whole thing is new to you both and I'm just making it awkward," he soothed, holding his hands up in surrender.

"There is no 'thing'. We can't just actually have a moment where we get on with each other before you start trying to marry us off again?" She whined. 

"Marry us off? What?" Matt asked quickly, his head whipping to his friend. She snorted as Foggy's cheeks went a little pink and he shot her a glare 

"Oh, he didn't tell you he's the captain of ship Maphne?" She laughed loudly. She didn't care if Matt knew. It was ridiculous to her and she was getting payback on Foggy for being a little shit. 

"Maphne? Do I even wanna know?" Matt asked exasperated. Foggy shot her another look before standing up straighter.

"You know what, Daph, mock me all you want but this is the hill I'm choosing to die on," he pointed at her. Matt still stood there unsure of what they were even talking about. She opened her mouth for another retort that would no doubt embarrass Foggy further and also maybe make Matt uncomfortable which was a bonus, but Foggy beat her to it. 

"Anyway! I'm glad I caught you two, I have great news!" He beamed excitedly. She quirked her brows perplexed as he led them to a table outside of the cafe nearby. The three of them sat around it, Matt and Daphne watching their friend expectantly. 

"I finally asked Karen on a date!" He practically squealed. A splitting grin graced Daphne's face, unable not to be happy for him. During their many talks, he'd spoken about his feelings for the blonde and Daphne had always told him to go for it. 

"Aw, Foggy! You're growing up, I'm so proud!" She cooed, reaching over and pinching his cheek. He was so happy he just let her.

"That's awesome, man. I'm happy for you," Matt smiled sincerely.

"I know, it's great right? I just finally bit the bullet. I just decided I need to stop being such a baby about it," he explained. He had a weird look on his face though, the same one that usually told her something going on.

"What is it?" Both she and Matt asked at the same time, him clearly picking up on Foggy's weirdness in his own way.

Foggy raised a brow at them both being in sync and she made a point to not even look at Matt so Foggy wouldn't go off on his Maphne tirade again.

"Well… I just… I panicked, okay? I set it all up and she knew I wanted to ask her something. But then I'm like, what if she says no? I mean it's just gonna be me and Karen. Alone. On a date," he uttered looking like a deer in the headlights.

"That's kinda the point, Foggy," Matt teased.

"I know it is. And I couldn't back out because she was just watching me, waiting for what I wanted to ask. I honestly felt like I was about to have a heart attack and I may have asked her on a date but told her it was a double date with you guys," he blurted, barely taking a breath as he did. 

Daphne blinked at him for a moment as her brain tried to digest his words.

"You did what?" Matt asked incredulously. Foggy made a pitiful noise and she took Matt’s glasses off and set them in the middle of the table, giving Foggy a look.

"A double date? Implying that me and Matt are actually also going to be on a date. Do you see the flaw in that plan?" She asked slowly, like she was talking to a child about why playing with matches was bad. 

"I know! Like I said, I panicked and that's just the first thing that came out of my mouth!" Foggy defended with a sigh.

"And Karen actually bought that?" Matt scoffed, gesturing with his hand to him and then Daphne.

"You're kidding right? She's all aboard this ship, she was actually excited about it," Foggy smirked. She kicked him under the table and he groaned. Matt's jaw ticked as he glared in his best friend's direction. 

"This isn't a joke, Fogg. All the shit you give me for keeping my secret from her and you're just lying right to her face about this?" Matt frowned. 

"That's completely different. Your secret is dangerous. This one isn't. For all she knows it's your first date too and after that it just didn't work out. Besides, it's not like you're not getting it on with each other, would it really be that hard to just pretend to be on one date?" He pleaded, looking from her to Matt.

"Yes," they both answered again.

"Please? I really need this. If I tell her you're not going she might cancel too. You two are like a buffer, help set the scene and put her at ease. I really like her, guys. I don't want to mess things up," he begged. 

"Foggy-" Matt started sternly, only to be cut off by Daphne. 

"Fine. But you're paying for dinner," she relented. 

Foggy smiled the widest grin she'd ever seen on a human and Matt turned to glare at her.

"You've got to be kidding me," he scoffed incredulously.

"What? Didn't you hear him? He's our friend, Matt. Let's just do this for him. Besides, free dinner," she shrugged. Matt looked pissed and honestly it was a reward she hadn't expected. She'd almost forgotten how nice it felt to push his buttons. 

"This is ridiculous. You really think she's not gonna notice we can't stand each other once she's sat at a table with us for a while?" Matt glowered. He had a point but they could just try to be civil for Foggy's sake.

"You know what, Matt, I really hate to play this card but you left me no choice. You lied to me for the longest time and now I have to keep your secret. I already have to start a potential relationship with lies for you. Can't you just do this one thing for me? I never ask you for anything," Foggy muttered with a frown. 

A sly grin spread on her face at how underhand it was of Foggy. She almost felt like a proud parent as she watched a million emotions pass over Matt's face before defeat was all that was left.

"Fine. But don't say I didn't want you when this all blows up in your face. And you're paying for my dinner too," he huffed. Foggy looked more than pleased with himself. 

"Thank you! You guys are awesome. I'll even pay for your drinks if you actually try and act like you like each other and not make it awkward," he shot them both a toothy grin. 

"Hey, let me drink as much as I want and I'll make it really look like we're on a date," she smirked devilishly, a wiggle of her eyebrows and Foggy burst out laughing.

"Jesus christ," Matt muttered quietly with a shake of his head. 

"Deal," Foggy nodded firmly, "tonight at 8. It's the Mexican place near the firm," he instructed before he stood.

"Alright. I'm heading out, you coming with, Matt?" He asked, shooting his annoyed friend a look.

"Yeah. You go on, I'll catch up in a sec," he bit out. Foggy gave her a look and a smirk before he started walking away. 

"Really?" Matt glared at her, swiping his glasses from the table and shoving them onto his face. 

"What? Free food and as much booze as we want? Plus doing your best friend a solid? I know you're an asshole, Matt, but I thought you weren't that much of an asshole," she quipped dryly. He clamped his mouth shut, jaw tense as he pursed his lips.

"Fine," he stood up abruptly, gripping his cane before holding it in front of him. 

"You're doing this for Foggy. Don't fuck it up for him just because you've got a stick up your ass," she huffed as she stood up too. 

He shot her what she presumed was a dirty look behind his glasses before he started walking away, his cane swinging in front of him. His irritation about the situation only made her want to do it more. It was his own fault really for acting like such a bitch about the whole thing. He was asking for her to make it worse for him. She started walking home as a plan formed in her mind. She'd get nice food and decent booze and she'd get to piss Matt off in a setting he had to behave in. She was actually looking forward to it. 

As soon as she got home, she called their firm, knowing Karen would be the one to answer.

"Nelson and Murdock, Karen speaking," came the voice down the phone. Daphne trapped the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she tugged off her hoodie and tossed it in the laundry basket.

"Hey Karen, it's Daphne," she said casually. 

"Oh! Hi!" She sounded genuinely happy to speak to her and she wondered why she'd never bothered to speak to Karen more since she was so close to Foggy and Matt.

"I know this is weird, we haven't really spoken much. But I wanted to ask a favour since we're going on a double date," she said carefully, flopping onto her sofa.

"Sure, what is it?"

"Don't tell the guys, it's kind of weird for me. It's just… this is mine and Matt's first date too and it's been so long. I was wondering if you'd help me get ready for the date? I wanna look really good. I mean I know he can't really see, but he just somehow knows these things, right?" She grinned, cringing at how hard she was going at this. She felt a tiny bit bad at lying to her but she ignored it. 

"Of course! I'd… I'd really love that. I'm nervous too and it'd be good to just have some girl time," Karen said softly. 

"Thank you, I really appreciate this. We could go to the restaurant together when we're done," Daphne smiled pleased with herself. After exchanging cell numbers and goodbyes, Daphne sat back on the couch with a smirk. She wanted to turn heads. Not only just to irritate Matt, using her knowledge of him finding her physically attractive against him, but it had been a while since she went out. Usually she did so with a goal in mind, to have sex. And she would turn heads, a lot of them. Tonight was different but it didn't mean her ego wouldn't enjoy being looked at. It certainly would be interesting. 

#matt murdock x oc #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock #daredevil x oc #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil

[chubbyreaderwriter]

Golden Boy

Harry Potter x Chubby/Plus Size Reader

Imagine: You and Harry are friends and about to be something more when he screws it all up. 

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: angst

Masterlist

You sighed as you looked around your empty train compartment. Nobody in your house ever wanted to be seen with you or talked to you, you didn’t even think most of them knew you existed. You were an outcast among the outcasts, which was a whole lot of lonely. It was hard enough to be a Slytherin with the bad reputation they have, but to have no friends either? It was just sort of sad really. You were used to it by now though, it had been the same for most of your time at Hogwarts, until recently. Last year, you had started a very surprising friendship with Hogwart’s own Golden Boy, or Harry Potter. 

You had been keeping to yourself when Harry turned up late to one of Professor Snape’s classes and he was forced to sit at the back of the class, the only available seat was next to you. You had felt his uneasiness despite him not saying anything to you so you had leaned over and whispered, “I don’t bite you know.” You then turned your attention back to what Professor Snape was saying, half listening to Harry shifting in his seat, “No, of course I know that, it’s just well, I don’t usually get along with Slytherins.” 

You had nodded, “Yes, I noticed. Neither do I.” Harry didn’t say anything to you in that lesson but the next Potions class, you found your personal space being intruded on by Harry again, despite there being plenty of seats in the class. As a Slytherin, you knew you weren’t really supposed to be talking to Harry, it could get you into a lot of trouble, but you didn’t really care. He was the only one who had made an effort to talk to you so you weren’t going to push him away. For now, anyway. 

It carried on like that for weeks, the two of you whispering to each other every so often, trying not to get caught. Harry had started to grow on you and you weren’t sure if you liked it or not. You would seem to spot him everywhere you went, like he couldn’t get out of your head. If you went to the library, ten minutes later, he would be there with his friends. If you headed to the Great Hall early, you’d walk in and he’d be there, looking at the doors as if he was looking for someone but you tried not to make eye contact. If you went to Hogsmeade one weekend by yourself and wandered around the town, you’d find yourself crossing paths with the infamous trio of Gryffindor. 

It wasn’t until just before the summer break when Harry expressed his desire to get to know you more, “Can I give you my address, if you feel like writing to me? Obviously you don’t have to, I just think-” You cut him off by holding out your hand, waiting for him to give you the little piece of paper he had scribbled his address on. Harry hadn’t expected you to write to him, he figured you only took the piece of paper out of politeness. But you did, you wrote to him at least twice a week. Most of what you wrote was just answering his many questions about you and telling him about your day, per his request. You sometimes asked him questions as well but never more than one or two. 

The last letter he had sent was delayed longer than his usual responses so you guessed that he had struggled on whether to send it or not. The letter didn’t say much apart but at the same time, it told you everything. You had decided not to reply to it, given how you both would be returning to school in a couple days anyway. The letter had said; 

Hey (Y/N), 

It’s been really nice to get to know you some more but I can’t help feeling that there might be something more between us. I’m excited to go back to Hogwarts, I’ve missed you, 

Harry. 

You had been shocked from what he said but there was a small part of you that was elated by his words. It was an understatement when you say you don’t get a lot of attention by men or women. You weren’t sure if it was because of your personality, your appearance, or how you seemed to just be invisible. Perhaps it was a mixture of all three. So when Harry’s letter came, you were unsure of how to react, what were you supposed to say? You quite liked your friendship with Harry and you didn’t want it to be ruined by whatever feelings you may have for each other. He was your only friend in a long time and you were conflicted. You decided to not think about it, wanting to wait until you saw Harry to talk to him about it. 

You hadn’t seen Harry at the station or on the train but that wasn’t to say he wasn’t there, he was probably late whereas you liked to be on time or early for everything. You really should’ve been placed in Ravenclaw, like your mother suggested, but you were placed in Slytherin because of how invisible you seemed, it sometimes came across as sneaky and manipulative but really, you were just quiet and patient. You weren’t sure if your life would’ve been better in any of the other houses but it was too late now, you couldn’t go back and beg the Sorting Hat to choose another house like Harry did. 

Finally, you were back in Hogwarts and you were being escorted with other students towards the Great Hall to be welcomed back by Professor Dumbledore. You looked around you and you saw Harry sitting with the Weasley boy and the Hermione. You were acquaintances with her after spending a few study sessions with her in the library, but perhaps even acquaintances was a bit of a stretch since you doubted she remembered your name. Harry had smiled at you and had gone to wave at you until he saw Hermione looking at him and he put his hand down. 

You suddenly didn’t feel okay, you felt a sharp pain in your chest. Why did that hurt? You weren’t expecting him to leap out of his seat and come over to you, but a simple acknowledgement of you was too much? You bit the inside of your cheek to maintain your straight face. After all these years of keeping up your facade, you were not going to break down and cry over a boy in front of all these people. 

It had felt like an eternity before you were finally released to go to your rooms and rest before classes started the next morning. You set out to find Harry, wanting to talk to him about the letter you received and you turned a corner to see Harry talking to Hermione while the Weasley boy stood near them. You leaned against the wall and strained your ear so you could hear what they were saying. You couldn’t help listening in, you never had anyone to talk to so it had become a hobby of yours to overhear other people’s conversations. 

“Harry, why were you looking at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall?” “Huh? Oh it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Hermione wasn’t one for letting things go though and pushed further, “You were looking at that girl weren’t you. Oh what’s her name.. uh-” “(Y/N)” You weren’t sure why you felt a need to smile when you heard Harry say your name. Ignoring the beating in your chest, you continued to listen to what they were saying, “Blimey Harry, don’t tell me you’re trying to get with her?!” That must have been the ginger boy, it definitely wasn’t Harry or Hermione. 

You waited for Harry’s response, “What? Definitely not, I wouldn’t get with someone like her, look at her. She’s just a friend who clearly likes me.” “And you don’t like her back?” You heard Harry scoff, “Obviously not mate, now come on, it feels weird just standing around here.” You heard their footsteps walking away and you checked to see if nobody was around before sliding down onto the floor and letting your tears fall. You were mostly angry with Harry for saying those things but you were upset with yourself for letting you fall for his stupid arse. Of course he wasn’t really interested in you, you had let yourself be fooled and you should be ashamed of yourself. 

You had tried your best to avoid Harry but once classes started and you still had no one to sit with, you realised you were doomed. As you expected, you saw Harry sit himself down in the seat next to you and he smiled at you, “Hey, how are you? Sorry we haven’t had a chance to talk before.” You stayed silent, completely ignoring him and his attempts at small talk. Just knowing he was right there within touching distance was making you angry again and all you wanted to do was hit him. Hit him until he hurt as much as he hurt you. 

He had gotten the message that you didn’t want to talk to him and kept quiet for most of the lesson until it was just before the end and everyone was packing their things up. He lightly grabbed your wrist, “Is this about the letter?” You yanked your hand away from him, your eyes watering as you pulled the letter you’d kept from him out of your pocket and ripped it up in front of him, “You really are stupid, you know that? I deserve more than a coward.” You shoulder barged him out of the way so you could leave the classroom, thankful nobody had paid attention to the little scene you caused. 

You were grateful that Harry didn’t make an effort to sit next to you for any of the other classes, you weren’t sure what you would’ve done if he had. It felt terrible to go back to your old life, talking to no one, sitting by yourself, the only company you had was your own thoughts. The day was soon over and you couldn’t have been more glad to escape to your room, when you were pulled to the side into a corridor by a familiar face you’d hope not to see, “What do you want?” Harry sighed, “I don’t know what I did wrong, I thought everything was good between us?” You scoffed, “Everything was fine before you opened your stupid mouth.” 

Harry frowned in confusion and you couldn’t hold back your tears as you spat out, “I wouldn’t get with her, look at her. She’s just a friend that clearly has feelings for you.” Harry’s face went pale as he realised you had overheard his conversation. You waited for him to say something, anything, but he just stood there. You rolled your eyes at him, “Go find someone else to be ashamed of,” walking away back to your common room, not even tempted to look back at him. 

Had you looked back, you would’ve seen the look on Harry’s face as he finally came to his senses and realised how badly he had screwed things up. This was the most you’d ever talked to him at once and it was because he was being a twat and had ruined something great between you. He wasn’t sure how but he needed to fix things. He wanted you back in his life, he didn’t care how. He would learn how boring things were without you when he no longer had you to talk to during class and he didn’t have any letters from you that he could read before going to sleep, apart from the ones he already had. 

While you had gone back to ignoring him, he spent most of his time staring at you as if he was trying to will you over to him or something. His obvious pining over you was enough to get Hermione’s attention and it wasn’t long before she put all the pieces together. She sighed to herself, normally she wouldn’t have gotten involved in these things but because it was Harry, she wanted to help. 

You had been uncomfortable when you saw Hermione enter the library shortly after you and even more so when you saw her headed towards you. You silently prayed in your head that she was just going to walk straight past you, but no. Hermione sat down next to you and smiled, “Hello,” There was very few reasons why you would have the smartest girl in class sitting next to you and you kept your eyes on your book, “I don’t mean to be rude but there is no reason for you to be sitting there.” Although you weren’t as mean as the other Slytherins, that didn’t mean you were going to be nice to her. 

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Of course there is, you and Harry need to work things out. I know he likes you.” You frowned, “For someone as smart as you, you don’t really seem to know anything at all.” The last thing you wanted today was some girl you barely knew to be sticking her nose into your business. Hermione continued, “Look, I know he said some things he didn’t mean, but he was just trying to protect you. Ron is by far the worst gossip I’ve ever met and if word got out that Harry liked you, then you might become a target.” You said nothing as she spoke. You had never thought of it like that before but he could have told you that, there were a million better ways to tell you that you should keep things secret. 

You closed your book, grabbed your bag and looked at the bushy haired girl, “Fine, where is he?” Hermione smiled, “Quidditch practice, I’ll walk with you.” You didn’t say anything as the two of you walked in silence through the castle. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you, why wouldn’t they be? It had been a long time anyone had seen a Slytherin and a Gryffindor together and weren’t fighting. You kept your head held high and chose to ignore them all, of course they chose now to realise you existed. 

When you and Hermione were close to the pitch, she made you stand nearby where no one would see you, “Wait here, I’ll tell him to come over.” You didn’t say anything again but did as she said and waited. You had been waiting for a while and just as you had turned to leave, you heard someone running towards you, “(Y/N)! Wait!” You turned around to look at Harry, crossing your arms over your chest. 

He nervously rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at you, “Funny meeting you here.” You rolled your eyes at his attempt at humour, really Harry? He cleared his throat and continued, “So Hermione told me she talked to you, that’s good. I’m glad you guys are friends,” “We’re not friends, we’re civil.” Harry nodded, “Right, so anyway, I know I messed things up before but do you think there’s a chance we might be able to start over.” You looked at him, watching his expressions, he was like an open book that anyone with a pair of eyes could read. 

He took your silence as your answer and he tried to hide the disappointment and sadness on his face as he turned around. “I see, well, I’ll see you around then.” Just as his back was turned to you, you reached forward and tapped him on the shoulder to get him to face you again. He looked hopeful and you outstretched your hand for him to shake, “I’m (Y/N), nice to meet you.” Harry laughed and shook your hand as well, a little harder than intended and you laughed from how much he shook your arm. Harry grinned, that was the first time he ever heard you laugh and he was a little sad to hear you stop. You lightly nudged his shoulder, “You only get one more chance Potter so be careful.” Harry blushed a little and nodded, “You got it, I promise.” You smiled as you walked away from him, never would you have imagined that you’d fall for the Golden Boy. 

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